The Sweet Song of Skyrim
by Nalledia
Summary: Liv is the Last Dragonborn. Alduin was fated to be defeated by her hand, until he Shouts: Lein Bo Meyar. The result? A new world, a world without magic, without dragons, but where a team of Federal Agents are tracking the very creature Liv is destined to defeat, without knowing what exactly they're chasing.
1. Sky-Shattering Thu'um

The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim/Criminal Minds Crossover

Fanfiction

Disclaimer:

I do not own Skyrim or any of the NPCs, Quests or game dialog, nor do I own Criminal Minds or any of those characters. I wouldn't mind owning Reid, though;p. The rest of the characters are mine. Enjoy and please review!

Criminal Minds Season 6 and onwards, although I wouldn't say there are huge spoilers episode-wise, if you haven't gotten to this point. Well, not in the beginning, at least. I'll put up an A/N if there are spoilers to come.

 **Chapter One: Sky-Shattering Thu'um**

" _ALDUIN!_ " she screamed, running at the black dragon with her ebony longsword, grasping it with both hands as she swung it down hard on the World-Eater's snout. The blade lodged itself in the bone, and Alduin roared. Sovngarde's silence rang in her ears, and she roared back.

" _Krii, lun AUS!_ " she Thu'umed, the noise of Sovngarde and its bravest warriors rushing back to her.

" _Meyye!_ " Alduin howled, tossing the young Breton woman clinging to her blade off his snout. " _Zu'u unslaad! Zu'u nis oblaan! Strun, bah QO!_ "

" _Lok, vah KOOR!_ "

The Breton was hauled to her feet by Kodlak Whitemane of the Companions. "Rise, Dragonborn! Your strength is needed now, more than ever before!" he grabbed her hands and pressed his heavy, steel greatsword into her small hands. "Go, defeat the World-Eater, Liv!"

Her deep-jade eyes burned with fire, and she nodded, running back to kill the dragon who had thrown her life to the wind – a simple village girl from Riverwood, visiting her cousin the week before his wedding when the Empire passed through Helgen with their Stormcloak prisoners, Jarl Ulfric proud despite the crude bindings of a common prisoner around his wrists and mouth.

Liv fought hard, and when she saw the chance to drive Kodlak's greatsword into Alduin's heart she took it.

But before she could kill the midnight dragon, just as the blade pierced his hide, he Shouted three words:

" _Lein, bo MEYAR!_ "

Neither were seen in Nirn or Sovngarde again.

* * *

Spencer Reid leaned back in his chair, rolling his neck to ease the stiffness that was starting to set in from bending over all the paperwork.

"How ya doin', Pretty Boy?" Derek Morgan asked, a bright smile on his face as he clapped the young doctor on the shoulder, glancing at the stack of files on his friend's desk. Morgan raised his brows, hiding a smile behind a much-needed gulp of coffee. Reid grinned back briefly, turning away to hand Morgan a stack. "Oh-ho, no, I ain't helpin' with that. You're on your own, Kid!"

"Really? I _always_ end up with all the paperwork," Reid dejectedly tossed the few files back on top of the stack. True, he worked through it the fastest of the team, but still…. A little help went a long way.

"Hey guys! Gather round, we have a new case!"

Both agents turned to watch the bright yellow, lime-green and neon-pink figure of Penelope Garcia striding past in fluffy heels with a tablet high in hand. She was still handling incoming cases – at least, as she liked to call them, the 'wacko ones' which were filled with interesting details, or those she deemed especially important. No-one seemed willing to stop her, and so her mini-crusade had continued. Emily Prentiss and Jennifer Jareau weren't far behind. David Rossi and Aaron Hotchner were probably either in their offices, or in the boardroom already.

"Here we go," Morgan breathed, trying unsuccessfully to finish his coffee.

Reid whirled around to his desk, tidying it briefly to avoid looking JJ in the eye. Both JJ and Prentiss had been back at the BAU for little more than a week now, and he still wasn't sure what to make of it – Emily had, for all he'd known, essentially died at the hands of Doyle. JJ had known that she was still alive: for weeks he had been to her house, a mess over the loss of a dear friend, and she hadn't once thought to tell him Emily was actually alive. Reid supposed they didn't have too much of a choice, but he still felt the foreign sting of betrayal whenever he thought of it.

He grabbed a pen and his bag, weaving through the cubicles to the meeting room and took his place on his usual spot. Hotch and Rossi were just behind him. Garcia smiled brightly in greeting, then started uploading images to the screen.

"So, this one is _especially_ weird – it started with that freak storm in Texas two months ago, and since then three bodies have turned up. Creepily enough," she clicked a button and an image of a charred body loaded on the screen, "the bodies have all died of either being burnt, or from being frozen, or, my personal mind-blower –" she flitted through the images, finally stopping at one in particular. Reid leaned forwards, squinting at the image, then flipped through his file to examine the photograph better.

"That isn't possible – not in that heat. How long was the body like that?" he asked, staring at the photo on the screen again.

"Apparently it's still like this," Garcia said sadly.

The body of the man was completely encased in a thick coffin of ice.

* * *

_oOo_

Krii, lun, aus Kill, Leech, Suffer (Marked for Death Shout)

Meyye! Zu'u unslaad! Zu'u nis oblaan! Strun, bah QO! Fools! I am immortal! I cannot die! Storm, wrath, lightning! (Storm Call Shout)

Lok, vah, KOOR! Sky, spring, summer (Clear Skies Shout)

Lein, bo, meyar World, move, self (a Shout I made up for reasons – how else are they gonna end up this side?;p)


	2. Unbound

**Chapter 2: Unbound**

Liv lay on her back, staring up at the blue, cloudless sky. She had no house, very few possessions, and most of what she'd had, she had sold recently for food and lodge. The only thing she still possessed to remind her of home, was her ebony greatsword, Qahnaarin. Somehow, when she was torn from her world with Alduin, her trusted blade had returned to her.

But that had been several months ago, and even Alduin had come out of the ordeal… _changed_. What she had managed to see of him last, he had become human, in body. Liv had found out quickly that their voices were much stronger in this world – in the beginning, she could barely speak the common tongue above a whisper for fear of rattling the windows, and words in the dragon tongue carried through the earth, from Dragon to Dragonborn and back.

It had caused a great stir in the world: those strange, flat boxes she saw in the shop windows with little people inside kept talking about earthquakes in unexpected places and unnatural storms. Many were attributing it to something called 'Global Warming'. And Liv had to admit, this world was _much_ warmer than she was used to.

Then again, Skyrim wasn't exactly the warmest of the Tamriellic provinces.

Liv had spent the past two months trying to find Alduin again, but with both falling into silence to avoid unwanted attention, it was difficult to track the World-Eater and finish what she had started. Fortunately for her, her opponent was rather predictable in some aspects. He was gathering up his dragon priests again, though why these ungifted, bland people would ever appeal to Alduin at all was something Liv didn't understand.

They didn't believe in magic, couldn't use it, couldn't speak the dragon tongue, and didn't believe in dragons, either. What use were they to him? Other than playthings, of course. Or distractions to keep Liv occupied while he hid from her. But, she had taken down two of his priests, and she was sure Alduin was furious. It was enough to make her lips twitch into a half-smile for a moment.

Liv sighed heavily – two of the nine wasn't enough, and Alduin was still somewhere in the world, probably trying to bring about _its_ destruction as well. The dragon priests allowed her to get to Alduin, as each one made mistakes and had fun with the new things they learnt under the World-Eater's hard guidance. And that was why she was outside, lying on the dirt between two buildings somewhere in a tiny little town in a place called 'Texas'. The heat was intolerable, despite the pocket of shade the buildings offered her, and she almost wished for the cold of Skyrim.

There was a dragon priest here, or at least, that's what she had managed to figure out. Unfortunately, the law-keepers of this land were _also_ looking for this dragon priest, and now her. She hadn't meant to Thu'um, but the battles between Vokun and Volsung had proven that the two shadier priests wouldn't fight her directly.

And now, most recently, she had managed to kill someone who was defending the resident priest, again with her Voice. Not her finest hour, but she hadn't had a choice. They were beginning to connect the pieces and tie the three together. The only thing she couldn't figure out was, why all the priests she had tracked so far had all come to the same, far-flung town.

Was it perhaps Alduin's way of trying to get Liv out of his way for a while, by ordering them all to run to the same place? After all, his new priests had a superior understanding of this world, having been born in it, so they would understand the laws and law-keepers better. Perhaps _that_ was why Alduin had gathered his priests again – to understand, and then conquer and destroy.

But that was a thought for another time. Liv was tracking another priest who had come here, who was most likely either Otar or Rahgot – she would find out once she took his mask. Or _her_ mask – Vokun had been female.

 _Time to go and see if I can find some water, at least_ , Liv rolled upright, dusting herself off and taking her greatsword in hand, slinging the pack she carried with Vokun and Volsung's masks inside, as well as some odd clothing pieces, over her shoulder. While she occasionally got a few curious glances, she had learnt that the fastest way to clear suspicion was to say she was someone called a 'cosplayer', and that her weapon was a 'professionally made prop'.

Absolutely none of that made any sense to her, but a young woman – possibly around Liv's biological age – had raced up to her when she first arrived in this world, gushing about the craftsmanship of her armor and sword, and which character she was 'cosplaying' as in the 'con'. Liv quickly realized that this world was very alien, and that something like this could mean the difference between jail time and successfully hunting Alduin. So she stuck with it, whatever it meant.

Liv had a coinpurse full of septims every storeowner she met had refused, saying that she couldn't pay with _that_ , as if it was common knowledge, or as if she was trying to sell Skooma in public. The only time she'd had this world's currency, was when she had sold her dragonscale armor, her dragonbone bow, fifty arrows and quiver. While it had seemed like a lot at the time, Liv quickly realized that it simply wasn't enough to live on. She had managed to buy herself black pants, a few pairs of socks, a sleeveless shirt, a pair of shoes, a brown jacket and a few changes of underwear, all of which she tried to keep as clean as she could. Whenever she was close to a 'shelter' for the homeless, she would check in for food, a bed, and the chance to clean up.

But lacking in the world's currency meant that she often didn't get as much food as she would have liked – and pride stopped her from begging. Sometimes, especially in these small towns, she would be able to find work at a restaurant or diner in exchange for some money and food. This town hadn't quite appreciated her attempt at providing assistance at such an establishment, so she hadn't been as lucky as she usually was.

Liv sighed, closing her eyes and lifting her face to the sky. _If only I could find Alduin, and go_ home _, to Skyrim…._

Her eyes snapped open.

 _There._

The distinct ripple of magic and magicka was followed by a woman's scream, and the crash of glass doors shattering. Liv stepped out of her alley, glancing down the street. "Dragon priest," she muttered, dropping her pack, strapping Qahnaarin to her back and throwing her pack on over it, sprinting out and following as soon as the priest ran by. _Definitely another male._

"He went that way!" someone called.

"Stop him!"

"STOP, FBI!"

Liv's target ducked into an alleyway, and she followed, skidding to the ground to miss the attack. Whoever the 'Eff-bee-eye' was, was closer than she had thought. She rolled up, kicking at his calf.

" _Shit_!" the priest swore, falling and rolling out of the way to miss a poorly-charged flame Destruction spell Liv sent his way. Magic was harder to control here, too. Her target rolled up, barreling through a Redguard with an L-shaped object in his hands. The Redguard staggered back, falling against the wall, and Liv gave chase.

"FBI, STOP!" a second, younger male voice called almost directly behind her.

She was losing sight of the priest.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, charging a paralysis spell and turned to fling it at a slender man with dark, liquid brown eyes, making sure to strike him in the chest – credibility to his sudden, three-second paralysis. He gasped in shock when his muscles seized and he fell, and Liv bolted down the alleys and streets to escape.

Hopefully she wouldn't be found by this 'Eff-bee-eye' organization – the priest, for that matter, would hopefully stay away from them, too. He was _hers_. She would need to keep an eye on the little boxes in the windows to find out who they were, and what they were doing here, exactly.

And she _still_ didn't know which one she was chasing.

* * *

"What happened?" Rossi questioned when Reid and Morgan huddled back into the precinct, the one looking thoroughly rattled and the other clutched the back of his skull.

"I dunno – apparently, we're not the only ones looking for this killer," Morgan grumbled, rubbing his head before sinking into a nearby chair. "We've been over the site a couple times, and even JJ and Hotch can't find anything new. All I know is, we're chasing a guy in a mask and someone else was chasing _him_."

"Are you sure?" Rossi checked.

"Yup – I tried running after the second person, but as I got close, they turned and knocked me down. And then vanished…" Reid trailed ashamedly. He wasn't the most physical, he wasn't exactly one to chase down the Unsubs, but being knocked flat and unable to gather himself to chase her left him feeling inadequate.

Sure, he and Morgan had headed out to interview the people who had known the victims when a woman in the street had screamed, so he wasn't _really_ prepared, but still – he disliked the feeling the whole situation had brought up. He could've done better, in his opinion.

Rossi nodded slowly. "What do you remember about this person?"

Reid squinted. "Green eyes." He frowned. "And not much else…."

The two agents tried not to stare at Reid. He had an eidetic memory and a speedy brain – and all he could remember about this mysterious, potentially second Unsub was that he – or she – had green eyes?

* * *

By midnight Liv had to concede that, whichever Priest she had followed here, was long gone. No amount of tweaking or casting of her Clairvoyance spell pointed to the dragon priest being _anywhere_ near here. She was seriously beginning to consider walking into the law-keepers' building and telling them what she knew – but how would that work out? She would probably be arrested, especially since she _was_ in possession of two of the masks already, and she didn't want to come across as the one responsible.

She wasn't entirely sure how criminals were dealt with here, but if it was anything like Cyrodiil's laws – Skyrim had rules unto its own that could be counted as both harsher and more lax – then murder _could_ be punishable by execution of some kind.

But, why should she really help them? They were the reason she had managed to lose her target. Liv sighed heavily, trudging into a secluded alleyway where she would pretend to get some rest of the evening. How she _hated_ this world.

* * *

"So, absolutely _nothing_ came up in your search?"

Prentiss shook her head. "All we found out, after you two took chase, was that the woman who had been attacked said that the attacker held…" the dark-haired woman flipped through her notes quickly "'Cold and lightning in his hands'," she held out her hands to demonstrate what the woman had shown her and JJ, her palms facing up and her fingers curled around an invisible ball. "It… doesn't make any sense to me, but as far as I can tell, she believes she's telling the truth. What I can't tell, is if the stress from the attack is affecting her memory."

Reid blinked at an officer who fidgeted awkwardly at the door. JJ turned to the man with a kind smile. "Uh, sorry to intrude, but-uh, a woman just came in and said to give you this –" he gave the note to JJ "– and she said it had to do with the man who attacked the woman."

JJ scanned the message quickly, and frowned when she looked up. "Is she still here?"

The officer nodded, turning to point. "Yeah, she's –" his arm fell to his side. "Gone."

"Gone?! What do you mean gone?" the words flew out of Reid's mouth even as he stepped forwards. "What did she look like?"

"Uh, I – black hair, green eyes. She looked young, too – maybe twenty, probably around eighteen or so. Can't say I'm good at guessing ages," the man shrugged. "Should we ask around for her?"

"Maybe," JJ shook her head, reading through the note again. "But I doubt she's still in town. But, I think we should keep an eye out for her – the way this was written, she either knows the Unsub or she has a good idea as to who it is. Thank you," she nodded, and the officer left the room.

"May I…?" Reid held out a hand for the note.

It was written in a plain black pen, but as if the writer was accustomed to using a dip-pen instead. The lettering was neat, tall but wide and looping. He couldn't help but wonder what this woman's handwriting would look like if written in true calligraphy.

 _I believe you are looking for the same man I am after. I thought you should know that, by now, he is long gone from this town, and I have no doubt that he will never return here. I have been trying to track him down for the past few weeks, but I have been unable to definitely locate him. He is – without doubt – connected to the three other murders I believe you are investigating. I would urge you to stop searching for him now, as any further efforts will be wasted, but I do not believe I would be able to convince you._

 _I wish you the best of luck in your investigation. Perhaps, if it is so fated, we shall meet again proper, and perhaps I can be of better assistance to you._

"Did you or Morgan meet her, Reid?" Prentiss questioned quietly.

"I don't know," the young doctor replied quietly.

He had an inkling that, perhaps he had.


	3. Magic in a World Without

**A/N:** It's been a wait…. Woops. I hope those of you who have followed and favorited will forgive me for the delay. Thus, without further ado, chapter 3. Prithee enjoy, and drop a review at the end, if it please you!

 **Chapter 3: Magic in a World Without**

Several days went by without any further leads, and eventually the team had to admit that there was nothing more they could do. It was frustrating that they hadn't been able to catch the Unsub, as they had so many times before, usually so easily. Reid read and re-read the note over and over, trying to see if he couldn't determine any more about the woman who had come in to the station to give them this information.

Would they ever be able to find her, and talk to her? Would she share what she knew? What if she was one of the perpetrators? Could she be a member of the CIA, or another organization, who knew more about what was happening than they did?

It was just speculation, and Reid doubted that the last of his musings would apply. If that _was_ the case, his team wouldn't have been allowed to investigate the crimes this far. If she was a bounty hunter, there would have been more information out on the Unsub – or Unsub- _s_. The woman may even know of other cases connected to these…. All they had managed to further gather from the anonymous note, was that there were a few more incidents tied to the three murders.

Firstly, two of the three had been reported missing, shortly after the freak lightning storms two months ago. Around that time, however, a grand total of _nine_ other people had disappeared around the country, almost immediately after some kind of freak storm or meteorological event. Reid had shared his theory that they were connected, and while Garcia and Rossi seemed to view his theory with more than some credence, the others were more wary of following that thinking.

It lacked a kind of logic, and he had no way of tying the cases together, no matter how hard he tried. There had to be a few pieces he was missing… and they were all related to the note and the woman who had written it. If only he could track her down, and talk to her, find out what she knew and if she would help them.

As it was, they had spoken to the officer who had spoken with her, trying to extract as much information about her as they possibly could from him. Eventually, they ended up with a description and a sketch, and although the team was doubtful about its accuracy, they'd spread it to local law enforcement around the country, adding that the BAU only wanted to talk to her about what she knew.

They were skeptical about finding her.

Spencer sighed, shaking his head to bring his thoughts back to the present, where a small stack of documents waited to be completed on his desk back at the BAU. He thought back to the incident, sure that the woman who had written the note had been the one to knock him down. But, when he thought back over that moment, he realized that the blow she had dealt hadn't been strong enough to knock him off his feet or even make him freeze for as long as he had. There was no other explanation, no matter how he –

"That paperwork isn't gonna finish itself, you know," Garcia teased with a smile, holding out a cup of coffee when Spencer turned around to face her.

"No, it won't, but it would be nice if it did, every once in a while," he smiled, sipping the steaming liquid. "I'll finish it –"

"No!" Penelope held up a finger adorned with a fluffy animal ring. "Go home, take the afternoon off. Well, what's left of it. Read something new, or something you really loved. Come back tomorrow bright and bushy-eyed and tackle that like the genius you are!" she finished with a grin.

Spencer had to admit, there was some logic to what she was saying. But he'd first savor his coffee.

* * *

On his way home, Spencer passed by the park for a moment of fresh air before headed into his apartment for some light reading. He hadn't decided yet what to read, but it would be at least two or three good books before he turned in. This particular section of the park was quiet, lightly shaded by a few older trees and several benches scattered around the area. The outdoors wasn't a place that Spencer felt any attachment to, or even any desire to breathe in the 'fresh air' everyone in the team said would do him a world of good. Books and theatre, the indoors and knowledge were his friends, and all he needed to be happy.

But today he found himself outside, perched on one of the wooden benches with a loose plank that rocked whenever he shifted slightly. He squinted at the sunset when the figure of a girl caught his attention. She was alone, sitting cross-legged in the last orange glow of the sun, her back straight and a long object he couldn't quite make out lightly balanced on her lap and in the palms of her hands. She was facing the sunset, her back mostly turned to him, but he was sure her eyes were closed. Her hair was black, hanging loose just under her shoulders. Spencer couldn't help but wonder how she could seem so perfectly calm and at peace in a world bustling with noise and distraction.

Spencer sneezed. It was time to head home and read.

* * *

Liv managed to make the trek back to the city called 'Washington' with little difficulty, only charming her way into the automated carriages twice in the many times she changed vehicles over the long journey. She was grateful for the speed at which 'modern transport' traveled. If she had relied solely on her feet to travel, she'd still be on her way to Texas for the first time.

As it was, she had returned the busy hub that was Washington. She hated the noise, the smell of unnatural fumes feeding the automated carriages that everyone traveled in, the lack of stars at night. Sometimes it felt as if she was suffocating in this new world. She sighed when she felt the eyes of whoever had been watching her slide away and leave her in peace. It had been a curious gaze, if Liv could hazard a guess.

 _Right, I'm here for a reason. Back to work_ , she reminded herself.

Liv was a Breton, though born in Riverwood, Skyrim. Both her parents had been from High Rock, visiting their cousins, Rochelle and Jauffre, and their two children, Camilla and Lucan when Liv was born. They had decided to stay permanently a few weeks after her birth, and Liv grew up to call the icy mountains of Skyrim home. Magic had been an issue initially with the Nords, but they quickly grew accustomed to the three little Bretons learning and playing with magic.

Her hands tightened around her ebony greatsword as she remembered how easily magic had come to her while she lived in Tamriel. Magicka was like an invisible, intangible muscle: it could be strengthened, its power increased in two main ways. The first, through constant use and practice of magic, but power was limited to the school – or schools – of practice. Liv was best at Restoration, with Conjuration and Destruction equal seconds thanks to Alduin and her Last Dragonborn status as the hero-fixer-upper. The second way to improve magicka reserves was through meditation, something Liv had rarely done.

"Alright, let's do this," she murmured to herself. "It's a muscle, a pool of energy that needs to be activated, charged, released…."

Liv only hoped this would work as well as it did in Tamriel.

* * *

Nearly a month passed by, with Liv spending her afternoons in the park in meditation, trying to muster up her dormant and difficult-to-control magicka into something usable. And unless the young Doctor Reid was on a case, he spent some time every afternoon, perched on his bench to watch Liv. She never turned around to acknowledge the curious gaze that fell on her, and he never stood to talk to the strange girl with the object silhouetted by the sunset in her lap.

If he had, he might have recognized the green eyes that shot open, then squeezed shut tightly against a threatening tide of tears at her struggle to regain at least a novice mage's control. If she had turned around, even to glance behind her, she might have seen those liquid brown eyes and apologized, offering her assistance in hunting down the priests and Alduin.

During that month, they came to expect each other's presence in the park, always near but never within reach. Reid started to notice little things about her as he watched; the way she always lifted her nose into a breeze, as if to catch some lost scent, a heavy sigh that settled the weight of the world more securely on her shoulders, a worn knapsack resting against her thigh. She always seemed to wear the same clothes, but appeared too proud to be poor or even homeless.

Maybe she was just a permanent traveler.

This dark-haired girl in the park was a conundrum Spencer Reid was having trouble with, and it showed while he was at work.

Morgan and JJ both commented that he seemed happier, trying to figure out what it was that kept him challenged outside of the work they did.

"Come on, Pretty-Boy. There's gotta be something you're doing we don't know about," Morgan gestured between himself and Garcia one morning, sipping his coffee.

"No," Reid shook his head slowly, glancing between his friends. "There's nothing new with me," he half-smiled.

"Did you get a girlfriend?" Garcia grinned, leaning forwards in bright blue, green and orange.

"No!" Reid blushed, shaking his head furiously. _A girlfriend… I can barely make new friends and now I have a relationship?_

"Ahw, too bad, Pretty-Boy. The girls are missing out on you," Morgan grinned over his cup.

Reid scoffed and straightened the files on his desk. He somehow doubted that.

"Well, whatever, or whoever, it is, keep it up. It's good to see you lookin' like you've found a new mystery to unravel, Reid," Morgan clapped his shoulder with a smile, returning to his desk.

"He's right, you know," Garcia nodded, her hair and clips bobbing along with her. "Well, I have some files to go through and some tweaking to my system to do, so we'll chat later!" she hopped off the desk she'd claimed as her seat, tottering off on some other ridiculous pair of heels.

Reid smiled to himself when he turned back to his work. "I guess I am happy…."

It wasn't going to be a quiet day at the bureau: Garcia had just left when the office burst into activity. Hotch strode out of his office to speak to a Metro PD officer holding a sheet of paper. Reid watched with detached curiosity, as Hotch pointed at the sheet, probably asking if the man was sure. After vigorous nodding, and more pointing at the sheet, Hotch finally seemed satisfied, thanking the man with a firm handshake and returning to the bullpen with a satisfied look in his eyes. The rest of the team gathered almost automatically.

"We've found her."

Prentiss blinked, starting to shake her head. "Found… who?"

"The girl from Texas?" JJ asked incredulously.

Hotch nodded. "Yes, she's been found in Washington. Apparently she's been going to the same park for the past month every day for several hours. She should be arriving there now, so I'd like to send two of you out to fetch her."

Reid straightened in his chair. "I'd like to bring her in."

* * *

Liv tried not to snort impatiently, her fingers curling around Qahnaarin. Over the past month, she had managed to open up her magicka reserves to that of a novice mage, and while she could easily call on it now, she still couldn't form the magicka into something she could actually use in ways to benefit her situation.

The mess she was shamed to call magic only happened faster now, and she didn't have the privacy to practice molding it in a public park without drawing attention. Liv couldn't help but wonder if this was how the Nords back home had felt, when they realized they were mages, and tried to hone their skills in secret.

Her thoughts turned down to the two men she had encountered in Texas. Liv had since learnt that they weren't 'Eff-bee-eye' as she'd thought, but 'FBI'.

She still didn't know what it stood for.

"Alright, focus, Liv. Focus. Control…. What did Tolfdir always say?" she muttered, wishing she'd paid more attention to the old Nord. She'd give anything in this world to talk to Tolfdir just once about her magic predicament. She was going to retire and become a Master at the College when she returned home. Liv would even swear by Talos on that: no more adventuring, no more mercenary work, nothing of the sort. She'd become a scholar, and maybe travel through the cities once every few years just to see what had changed. That's it.

She'd even tell Isran to stick it. Liv's mouth curled into an unwilling smile. Isran would never take no for an answer.

Liv took a deep breath. There was something in the air today; something that told her things were about to change. She glanced up at the branches where she'd hidden some of her septims. She had two coins with her, a small handful in her pack, and the rest hidden high up in the tree. Liv had hesitated in the early morning hours, but eventually decided to leave the masks in the tree as well.

"Back to work," she murmured, closing her eyes.

* * *

"Yup, that's her over there, sitting cross-legged," a young officer pointed out the woman who'd left the BAU the note. "I kept watch here in case she decided to leave, but since she's been coming to this park for the past while and spent pretty much the whole day here, I didn't expect her to leave," he explained with a quick smile. "We started noticing her about two weeks back, and then someone at the precinct noticed she looked similar to the sketch."

"I see…" Rossi nodded slowly, his eyes wandering over the girl.

When Spencer looked away from the officer, he couldn't help the flinch of surprise. He'd been curiously observing the woman they were looking for, for almost a month!

"You guys need backup?" the officer snapped Reid's attention back to the present.

"No, we should be alright, thanks. We just want to talk to her," Rossi nodded, shaking the man's hand.

They started walking towards her, the midday sun glaring down on her pale shoulders. She didn't seem to notice their approach.

"I'd like to talk to her."

"I think you should talk to her –" Rossi stopped and smiled. "I'll be nearby. You've got this."

Spencer nodded, awkwardly tugging at his sleeves. He approached her from the side, finally seeing the bundle she held in her arms. It seemed to be a long rod of some sort, wrapped up in a worn – and possibly second-hand – leather jacket. He cleared his throat, noticing how her lips twitched into a small smile, and decided to awkwardly crouch down beside her.

"So you've made the first move," she said softly, her eyes still closed. "How can I help you, Curious Onlooker?"

Reid stared. "What?"

Her lips twitched into a smile again. "You're the one that's been sitting on the bench behind me for the past month, watching me meditate." She opened her eyes and turned to look at him. Whatever she planned to say next died in her throat.

Spencer stared back into deep emerald eyes. The same eyes as the one who had knocked him flat in Texas


	4. Interrogation & Capture

**A/N:** I've extended chapter length a smidgen, and I'm going to try give you people a chapter a week. Please enjoy, and let me know what you think!

 **Chapter 4: Interrogation and Capture**

Spencer stared back into deep emerald eyes. The same eyes as the one who had knocked him flat in Texas.

She looked away. "I suppose you've caught me. But you seem as surprised as I am that we're meeting," she prodded, turning her gaze back onto the young agent.

"Uh, yeah – this is unexpected," Spencer brushed back his hair. "I'm Doctor Spencer Reid. I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. We'd like to know what you know about the murders in Texas – the note you left us made it sound like you knew something that could've been very valuable in the investigation. Or maybe you know the Unsub?"

Her eyes followed his gaze to Rossi. "Government officials?" she mused, nodding to herself when Reid nodded. "Yes… I have some idea of who is behind it. I also suspect that – including the one who managed to escape – there are about seven others you will need to find," she paused, idly fidgeting with the object in her lap. "Am I to be arrested?"

"No, well, not yet," Reid offered a smile. "Would you come back with us for a formal interview?"

She glanced back at Rossi, and the man offered a warm, if wary, smile. She sighed. "I'm Liv."

* * *

Liv took Qahnaarin and her small pack with her, following the two agents back to their headquarters. So the 'FBI' was a part of their government, and within that structure was a faction the two agents referred to as the 'BAU'; both men worked as part of a team within this faction. Liv found it confusing at best, but kept her questions to herself. The less attention she could draw to herself right now, the better. She shivered when they descended into an underground 'metro station', to take a 'train' to their headquarters.

Automated carriages – _cars, Liv_ – were disconcerting enough, and now there was an entire underground _system_ of transport not only faster and more efficient, but with far more people on board as well.

The older man introduced himself as David Rossi, another 'Supervisory Special Agent'. Liv hoped the Thalmor never found themselves in this world: they would love the exotic titles even this single division could offer. Conversation stayed fairly light, and David paid for her ticket when she balked.

Spencer eventually took over the conversation with a one-sided ramble about random facts.

"Did you know that human saliva has a boiling point three times that of regular water? And that 95% of people text things they could never say in person? In the 1880s in England, the word 'pants' was considered a dirty word. And –"

"Reid," Rossi interrupted. Liv glanced at him, then turned back to Spencer. It was the strangest collection of facts, but she was enjoying herself.

"– Mewtwo is a clone of Mew, in Pokémon, but Mewtwo comes first in the Pokédex –"

"Reid," Rossi tried again. Liv half-smiled.

"Did you know that the –"

"Reid!" Rossi spoke up, turning to face the young man. "You're drowning the poor girl in facts! Slow down a bit."

Spencer blushed, looking down. "Oh, yeah, right. I'm sorry."

"Oh, no – I don't mind, it's very interesting. I didn't know that. Please, continue," Liv offered a shaky, full smile.

 _When was the last time I'd really smiled because I was enjoying myself?_ she wondered.

* * *

Rossi glanced at Reid after Liv had given him permission to ramble on. Her lecture had changed from random facts to a lecture on the finer points of chemical engineering. Liv was an attentive listener, but Rossi wondered how much of it she actually understood. Reid lost him before he'd really started.

Reid rambled on faster the more excited he was about the subject, and how much he wanted to share. In the meantime, Rossi would take the time to study Liv, while she was occupied. She was nervous, even though she hid it well. Probably poor, judging by the state of her clothes and pack, but maybe she'd once known the comforts of wealth. Either way, she looked like she was more than capable of looking after herself.

Whatever the jacket-wrapped length in her arms was, it was more valuable to her than her pack, and she clutched it to her chest every time the train lurched or someone came close to her.

Reid had just fallen silent, finally running out of steam.

"That must be very important to you," Rossi nodded at her wrapped object.  
Liv looked down at it, clutching it closer with fondness. "It's all I have left of home. The only way I will part with this is when I am dead, and even then I might be convinced to stick around and turn it into a haunted weapon," she tried a joke, but not even Reid in his post-ramble happiness could miss the sorrow and loss that crept into her voice and shouted through her eyes. She started to speak, then changed her mind.

"What is it?" Reid asked, leaning forwards.

Liv's eyes shot up to look at the younger agent. "Something special to me I'd rather not be parted with. Is it… possible to keep this somewhere I can at least see it, when we arrive at your headquarters?"

"I'm sure we can make arrangements when we arrive," Rossi glanced at a put-out Reid.

Clearly the girl didn't quite trust them, but whether that was her natural response or the response of someone with secrets to hide, was anyone's guess until she could be questioned about the Unsub and murders in Texas.

* * *

Entry into the BAU's headquarters had turned into a nightmare for Liv. They had tall archways which always seemed able to tell whether or not she had any metal hidden somewhere in her pockets, and a covered device with a moving surface which the people of this world used to determine dangerous objects. She'd briefly seen one of these before, but wasn't sure how they worked. Since the world lacked magic and clearly wrote off alchemy as the lunatic's field, she had to assume that it somehow worked with 'science'.

But Liv had also figured out that the presence of magicka affected the functioning of certain machines and devices in this world.

And so Liv did her best to manipulate the shape of Qahnaarin, trying to make it look less like a sword and a little more like an indeterminate bundle.

She managed to pass through with a flimsy Charm and 'fried the system', as they called it when sparks flew and boxes went black. Presumably from her disastrous attempt at magic.

The people within the building, though serious to a fault, were all polite when the trio passed, eventually entering yet another mode of transportation, something they called an 'elevator', which pulled them up to the desired floor of the building.

Liv hugged Qahnaarin and her pack a little closer.

She recognized the Redguard from the alley, and from the looks of the conversation with a painfully brightly colored woman, he was flirting.

"Hm," Liv shook her head with a half-smile.

"It's their thing," Reid chipped in, holding a glass door for Liv to enter the room. "Welcome to the BAU, Liv."

She glanced around the large space, many small and crowded desks packed in the center of the room, the outer edges raised with larger, closed rooms around. In one corner, she spied a larger, meeting table hidden in another room.

"Thanks…" she murmured absently.

"Hi! I'm Penelope Garcia, the Technical Analyst and Co-Communications Liaison," the brightly-colored woman thrust out a hand with a large grin.

"I'm Liv," she took Penelope's hand a little unsurely. "Pleased to meet you."

"Derek Morgan, SSA. If you'll follow me," he turned slightly, gesturing at stairs up to the higher section of the room.

 _He's the most serious of the group so far when it comes to work. Or perhaps just professional,_ Liv noted, wondering if he would be as physically active as the Redguards in Tamriel. He led her to the meeting room, which he called a 'boardroom'.

"Make yourself comfortable, Liv. You're not in any trouble, we just want to know what you know. We'll take it step by step from there, okay?"

"Of course; that's fair."

"Is there anything I can get you? Water, soda? Something from the vending machine?"

 _Vending machine?! Soda?! I don't even know what that is,_ Liv blinked. "Water is fine, thanks."

"Sure thing," he smiled, then left her alone in the room.

Liv hovered for a moment, looking around the warm-colored room. "Could be worse," she decided, and carefully placed Qahnaarin on the couch, her pack next to it. She didn't need to look through the window behind her to know the team was watching her. They analyzed behavior, so of course they'd watch her to see what she would do. She took a deep breath, then sat down at the table and waited.

* * *

Reid watched from his desk in the bullpen when Morgan and Hotch entered the boardroom, and Liv's nod of thanks when Morgan handed her a bottle of water. She seemed to close off a little, sitting straighter and setting the pace with a sip of her water.

"She's very careful about her body language," Prentiss remarked.

JJ nodded. "It's like she's been interrogated before, but she expects the worst from it. I'd bet she's only giving exactly what Hotch and Morgan are asking for, and she's giving it like she's reciting facts."

"She seemed to warm up to you, Reid," Rossi said, looking at the young doctor.

JJ and Prentiss turned to him. "Spence…?"

"She was probably just humoring me," the words rushed out of his mouth. "I was rambling about facts and then it turned into a lecture and then I realized I was still talking and finally stopped. She was just humoring me."

"Maybe not," Prentiss nodded at the boardroom. "Oh. She looks insulted by something."

They were right. Liv wore a scowl on her face, and though she stayed calm, it was clear she didn't appreciate whatever they had said to her. After a moment, she sighed, her shoulders losing some of the proud strength she'd held onto until that point.

* * *

Liv heaved a sigh. "As I've said before, I don't know much more than you know. I don't understand why, or how. If I did, I would tell you. But all I can say for sure is this: there are, including the one who escaped in Texas–"

"You mean the one you helped escape?" the Redguard cut in.

Liv ground her teeth: she knew this was all to test her credibility, but the lack of faith…. She didn't have words for it. "I did _not_ help him escape. As you will recall, Agent Morgan, I was _chasing_ him, and had you and the doctor not interfered, he would have been apprehended."

"So you wouldn't have killed him?"

"No," Liv lied. _Not immediately, anyway. I need to know where Alduin is._

"Are you sure about that answer, Liv?" Agent Hotchner asked. He seemed uncomfortable with using only her first name. But what was she supposed to add? 'Liv of Riverwood'?

"Yes, I'm very sure about that."

"You mentioned that the three murders were connected to the suspect, and told Doctor Reid that a total of seven others were somehow involved as well?"

 _Shit_. She'd said too much to Spencer. She just… liked him. He was a spark of bright color in a bleak world. "Yes, they are connected, and no, I didn't say 'total'. I said there was a chance that seven others were connected."

"So there could be more than seven?" Morgan pressed.

Liv hesitated, and the Redguard leaned back with narrowed eyes. An uneasy feeling was setting in the pit of her stomach, the one she usually felt right before things went to Oblivion in a barrow, or right before a dragon's roar split the skies.

"If you don't talk to us, we can't help. If what you say is true, then we need to apprehend these people before they get hurt. The more you keep to yourself, the less we can do to keep innocent people safe," Morgan prompted more gently. Liv almost gave in and told them everything.

Almost.

A soft ripple of magicka drew Liv's eyes to the glass doors she'd passed through earlier. She stopped listening to the agents trying to convince her to talk. _It's him_ , she thought, watching the hooded man glance down the empty hallway, the agents hurrying about their business, oblivious to what was happening.

"He's here," she murmured.

"Excuse me?" Hotchner stuttered.

"He's here…" Liv blinked. The priest who had escaped her _was_ _here_. "Stop him; he's the one who escaped."

Morgan and Hotchner turned around in time to see the dragon priest raise his arms and head, lightning arcing between his fingers.

Liv reacted first, tearing away from the table and snatching up Qahnaarin. Doors were no longer obstacles to the Breton. None of the others had noticed the priest yet; he was too close to them for them to react in time.

"Stop it!" she snarled, the air vibrating around her. She halted when the priest's hood fell away to show a green mask.

Rahgot. She had been chasing Rahgot.

"So you're the one we were all warned about. I hope you don't mind the dark…."

He discharged both spells into the white ceiling lights. Liv leapt down the stairs, ducking under sparks and unwrapping Qahnaarin. She couldn't see in the flickering light, using the confusion to muster up a weak Detect Life. She had maybe, _maybe_ , three seconds to find the priest in the dark. Several blue shapes huddled under the desk. The two agents who had left the boardroom behind her were still standing on the raised walkway, arms outstretched in front of them. Also blue.

 _There!_

Right corner, huddled close to more blues, was a single red shape which faded just as she found him.

Liv crouched down, her jacket discarded and grasping Qahnaarin by the sheath. This building was almost as dark as Darkfall Cave; but she could at least make out faint shapes here. Her Breton ears strained to hear even the slightest rustle.

 _Sweet Oblivion!_

She huffed as a body slammed into her, the force flinging her greatsword out of her grasp. People exploded into motion seconds later.

Hot, slick hands were trying to hold her down, crashing into the side of something.

"Not today," Liv growled, slamming her knee into her assailant's side, aiming a punch at where she guessed his face was.

Liv's fist exploded in pain. "Unholy _Sheor_!"

She'd punched the solid orichalcum mask.

Liv and Rahgot rolled, and for a moment she had the upper hand.

But a faint purring started up somewhere, and some lights flickered back on. The sudden blindness made Liv recoil.

Rahgot hauled Liv off him, tossing her aside to crash into a corner. She gasped desperately to get her lungs working again.

"Ah! Ah-ah-ah…! Wouldn't want to kill one of your own, would you?" Rahgot sneered.

Liv looked up to see Spencer held against the dragon priest, a frost spell charged in the other hand. She still felt like a fish gaping in air.

"You know, you're smaller and less impressive than you were made out to be, _Liv_ ," Rahgot sniggered. The doctor shuddered at the cold so close to his neck. Liv scowled. "You can't even keep up basic, inherent _talents_ ," he wiggled the fingers of his spell-hand.

He was right; she couldn't. But how could _he_?

"Let him go," Morgan's voice cut through Raghot's bragging.

"I don't think Alduin will mind too much if I kill you," Rahgot continued, barely glancing at the two agents slowly advancing on him with their L-shaped objects. "He might even reward me."

"I doubt that," Liv rasped, sucking in air with relish. "Chances are he'll kill you for that. You say he's told you about me? Then you'll know he doesn't want anyone else to kill me. It's a hunt he'll keep for himself."

Rahgot laughed. "Alduin will judge when I take your head back. Which shouldn't be difficult, you're short enough to be a child."

Liv scowled deeper: she'd spent her life amidst giants who called themselves Nords. Hearing a stranger in a strange world attack her height was an insult she wouldn't stand for.

"Let him go, surrender. You'll never make it out of the building," Hotchner said slowly.

"Not another step," Rahgot finally turned to them, the frost in his hand swirling larger. Spencer's lips turned blue almost instantly, shivering violently. He couldn't speak even if he wanted to.

Liv let out a soft whine of disbelief. How was he managing to mold and maintain Ice Storm for so long?!

"Alduin has taught us to master the new talents we've been given! We are _gods_ among men!" Rahgot raged, his grip on Spencer loosening. The black shape of Qahnaarin glinted in the corner of Liv's eye. "I can't believe that Vokun and Volsung fell to _you_. We are _equal_ to the gods! We will rule over –"

Liv flinched at the resounding bangs, her eyes wide.

Rahgot looked down at his chest, where blood blossomed through his clothes. In his enthusiastic raging, he had released the young doctor. "Fuck," he swore, collapsing to the floor.

Liv turned to stare at the two agents with their weapons drawn – because, she could now see – that's what the L-shaped object was.

Rahgot would die soon.

"Where's Alduin?" she bolted forwards. "Where's Alduin?"

Rahgot's voice was muffled under the mask.

Liv fumbled to get it off, nails breaking tender skin. "Where is he? Tell me where Alduin is!"

"Fu… Dragon… itch…" Rahgot sighed.

Liv finally pulled off the mask. He was probably around thirty, blond hair and a rugged stubble beard. She closed her eyes and felt her shoulders sag. She dropped the mask into her lap.

"Th-that looks p-painful."

Liv looked up to a shivering Spencer Reid in a dark-haired woman's lap, shivering as she rubbed her hands along his arms. "What's that?"

"Your fist, Liv."

Liv looked down at her hands. A sharp hiss whistled past her teeth when adrenaline wore off and she saw the bloody, broken mess her right knuckles were. "Thanks for reminding me of it," she cradled her hand.

"You have a lot to answer for," Morgan said, returning his weapon to a sheath on his side and crouching at Rahgot's feet. "So start talking."


	5. Lies and Half-Truths

**A/N:** So I took a small liberty here. In TES:IV, the Septim Emperors are known Dragonborns who were described as being able to 'see more than lesser men', including seeing into the souls of and true intentions of others. Do enjoy the chapter, and drop a review if it please you!

 **Chapter 5: Lies and Half-Truths**

Liv sighed once more, rubbing her hands over her face. Healers came and checked on everyone in the room, before spreading out to the rest of the floor and building. Apparently Spencer would be alright, he just needed blankets and something warm to drink. If the cold persisted, he would need to go into a 'hospital' for 'observation'.

"I swear to you, I'm not involved in this. I really don't know as much as you think I do!"

"I don't believe you. That man –" Morgan thrust out his arm to point at the covered body of Rahgot, "– called you _by name_. You knew _exactly_ who he was talking about when he mentioned the name Alldwin. Stop lying to us. You nearly got Reid _killed_."

 _Alduin,_ Liv thought absently. _His name is Alduin, not Alldwin_. She shook her head against a barrage of accusations from the Redguard.

"What do you want from me?!" she shouted back, her face twisted and her knuckles throbbing in tune to her furious heart. "What do you want from me? To admit that I'm part of this? To say that, yes, sir, I am a criminal, and yes, I knew this would happen all along? Is that what you want from me?"

"I want the _truth_."

"The truth," Liv scoffed, laughing darkly. "The _truth_. Everyone wants the truth that suits their needs the best. I. Am. Not. _Involved_. Not with them," she added after a pause.

"Enough, shouting won't change what happened," Hotchner cut in before Morgan could reply. He held up the orichalcum mask. "This is an unusual mask, and I doubt we'll know what metal it's made off until we get test results from the lab."

"It's orichalcum," Liv mumbled. "A rare, green metal."

"And how do you know this?" Morgan jumped on the admission. Liv just looked at him.

"Uhm, whose is this…?" Penelope's voice asked hesitantly, gingerly holding up Qahnaarin by the leather straps on the sheath.

"That's mine, thanks," Liv wiggled off the table to take her ebony blade.

"You carry a _sword_ with you?" the dark-haired woman's eyes widened. Liv hugged Qahnaarin closer.

"Liv, what can you tell us about this 'Alldwin', and the man who came in here looking for you?" Hotchner spoke quietly, soothing Liv's nerves against her will, bringing focus back to what really mattered.

She, like Rahgot, stood no chance of escaping this building.

Well, not unless she wanted to deal with the rest of the dragon priests by nightfall, and gain a bounty on her head.

The little Breton would need to speak carefully, especially when speaking the dragon language. She didn't need them to hear her Voice and she didn't need Alduin to be able to find her.

"Maybe we can start with something a little more relevant, like how you know this man, and the other two he mentioned, Vokun and Volsung," a blonde woman smiled gently, wavering over the unfamiliar words. "I'm Jennifer Jareau, JJ."

Liv nodded slowly, eyeing the Redguard with distrust when he stepped closer to her. There was no way in Oblivion that he was going to take Qahnaarin from her, not today. "I'll do what I can, to tell you what little I know."

"That's all we need," she smiled again, nodding. Liv stepped closer, resting against the desk this time. "So, you don't know this man?"

"I've never spoken to him before today, no. I've also never seen his face before today."

"But you recognize him?"

"Of course; he was the one that escaped in Texas."

"Because you interfered with official business," Morgan scowled. Liv's lips curled into a snarl.

"Morgan," JJ warned. "You were chasing him in Texas?"

"Yes," Liv nodded. "I'm… sorry… about –" Liv rubbed the back of her head while looking at Morgan, and turned to Reid huddled in a chair. "And for knocking you down. My only goal was to stop him from getting away," she nodded at Rahgot's body.

Morgan huffed, and Reid offered a shaky smile. Liv drew in a deep breath, resting Qahnaarin on her lap.

"Did you know the people in the other three Texas murders?"

"I did not know them."

"Who are Vokun and Volsung?"

"Those are the names of masks, like Rahgot's," Liv raised a hand to wave at Hotchner, still examining the mask. She squeezed her eyes shut: she'd said too much. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ she chided herself.

"Masks?" Morgan immediately joined the interrogation again. "There were no other masks found at the crime scenes. So you _are_ the killer."

Liv pursed her lips. Yes, she was the killer. No, she wouldn't admit to it.

"Please explain how it is possible for me to burn someone without people smelling the smoke, make them cold enough to die of frost bite in the middle of the hottest place I have _ever_ been, and encase someone in solid ice. Again, in the hottest possible place," Liv turned to glare at Morgan, daring him to come up with an answer.

"You have a sword."

"They weren't cut."

"How do you know how they died if you weren't the killer?"

"Everyone knows how they died," she sighed, exasperated. "Every news sheet had dozens of articles on these mysterious deaths," Liv countered. The Redguard heaved a sigh. She was right, and he knew it.

"Then explain what he did to the lights and Reid," Morgan pointed at Rahgot's body.

"Magic," Liv drawled, only half-sarcastic when she rolled her eyes. Morgan looked ready to grab her by the scruff of her neck.

"So," JJ held up a hand to calm Morgan. "Tell me more about these masks. You said that Vokun and Volsung were also masks?"

"Yes, they are masks."

"Do you know where they are now?"

"I do," Liv answered slowly. "I've… been trying to track down the people who have masks. I followed three to Texas. Two who had masks died. When I found where they had holed up, I took the masks."

JJ looked surprised. "Why would you take them? And, why not call the police?"

Liv smiled wryly, getting started on a tangent after months of keeping it all in. "And explain to the officials that, no, I only found the bodies, yes, I carry a sword, and please, if I may, could I keep the masks? A domineering narcissist has created a cult, and in order for him to feel secure in his position, he _needs_ to have n- _some_ 'priests' at his beck and call, and those masks are the very thing that makes his priests, _priests_."

The Breton rubbed her hands over her face, finally running her fingers through her dark hair. All of this sounded fake to her, and probably even more so to them. And now came the story about Alduin, undoubtedly. She'd have to lie, of course, about how she knew him.

And she knew she was saying too much, but it just felt so good to get it out, even some twisted form of it. She was tired. She'd spent years running across Skyrim, hunting dragons and playing fetch for civilians, the abused and frayed rope in a tug of war between the Blades and the Greybeards, the Empire and the Stormcloaks. By Oblivion, the only ones who didn't tug too hard on her were the Companions, the Mages, and Isran.

"We… I met Alduin several years ago," she started, taking care to say the World-Eater's name as Morgan had. "We haven't uh, interacted, in as long, and to be honest, I don't even really remember what he looks like; dark hair, dark eyes. He had a fascination with 'taking over the world', and I think he even had some plans about how he was going to set about 'conquering' it."

"Let me guess, Alldwin isn't his real name?" Morgan folded his arms across his chest.

"I very much doubt that, and I have no idea what it could be," Liv lied. "He spoke about gathering up a, uh, group of special people, who would report directly to him. He called them his 'dragon priests'. I thought it was utterly ridiculous," Liv snorted. Dragon priests; what was their purpose, anyway? "I never thought he would act on any of it. Until, one day, he had told me he'd found his priests. Those who would serve him and help him rise. He..." Liv trailed, desperately thinking how to continue this lie.

How to explain why the World-Eater wanted his only true enemy dead, that had nothing to do with the fact that she was Dragonborn, and the only one capable of delivering the final blow.

"He offered me a place in his ranks. I was appalled. I refused, telling him it would never work out. Alduin was, in a word, livid. He tried to kill me, but obviously, failed." Liv stopped, berating herself. Not even _she_ believed the utter nonsense she was spouting. She shook her head. "I only realized how serious he'd been when I found out about Vokun, a steel mask, and Volsung, a dark copper-red mask." Explaining that Volsung was made of corundum was too much for these people at this time.

The agents exchanged glances. Liv dared to look at Spencer. He seemed thoughtful, almost like he was slotting pieces of a puzzle together that only he could see. But he still clearly cold.

"I don't believe a word of what you've just said."

Liv sighed quietly. Of course the Redguard saw right through her lies. He was good. "Believe what you will. If you want Vokun and Volsung's masks, I, I'll give them to you."

"You have them here?" Reid jolted upright, nearly spilling his coffee. A favorite warm drink of the Bosmer, at least it was something Liv recognized in this world.

"No, not _here_. I hid them somewhere they would be safe, for a time."

Reid's eyes widened as he searched his memory. "The park! You hid them somewhere in the park."

Liv's lips twitched sadly. "Yes, they're hidden there somewhere."

"And you're not going to tell us where?" Morgan frowned at her.

"You'll never get to them, where they're hidden. Being as short as I am has benefits, sometimes," Liv tried to joke. Penelope put a cautious but caring hand on her shoulder.

"It's been a long day, why don't we find those two masks, then reconvene in the morning to talk more? Especially about what our UnSub can do, and how he did it," Hotchner offered, setting down the mask.

"What happens to me?" Liv asked.

Hotchner gazed back at her, stoic. "You'll recover the masks, and whatever else you have hidden that pertains to this case. Then you will return, and stay here, in holding, until we can make heads or tails of what you've told us."

Liv nodded. "Fair enough."

* * *

The trip back seemed to last forever for Liv. She had reluctantly relinquished possession of Qahnaarin to Spencer, in a show of good faith. Her jacket lay across her lap, hiding her hands as she tried low-level Restoration spells to heal the damaged bones faster. At least the healers had managed to set the worst of the damage before bandaging her fist. Liv would need the extra healing to climb the tree.

Rossi and Morgan accompanied her, and it was clear that the Redguard was the muscle of the team, or at least he was, in part. Liv hadn't felt this hopeless and defeated since her first meeting with Alduin, where she had struggled to attack the World-Eater in the blistering snow storms at the peak of the Throat of the World. She couldn't even fire her bow or use other long-range attacks for fear she'd hit Paarthurnax instead.

She led the two agents through the park to her usual spot. She glanced at the bench where Spencer had always rested, neither realizing how close the other really was. Liv looked up at the towering tree ahead of her.

"I'll fetch those masks now," she announced, taking a step back to brace herself.

Liv pushed back, bolting forwards for the momentum she needed to reach the lowest branch. She almost smirked when Morgan gave chase behind her, but she was already in the tree.

Every time she climbed, she thought of Faendal, and how he'd laughed at her first pitiful attempts to scale the trees around Riverwood before taking pity and teaching her. She quickly made her way up through the branches, climbing up to the hollow she'd carefully expanded to hold both masks and stuffed the septims she'd hidden in her pockets and shoes back into it. She paused, tracing the geometric shapes across Vokun's surface before she tucked it under her arm and descended.

She'd always loved the shapes and designs on the masks.

Liv went slowly, trying to think of a way to get out of the situation she was in. Liv could run, but without Qahnaarin, she'd be a sitting duck in a pond of Slaughterfish against Hevnoraak, Nahkriin and Konahrik, the three most aggressive and physical of the priests. Plus, she had to find a way to explain magic without actually explaining magic.

Perhaps Spencer could help out with that… he had a brilliant mind and seemed to know more about everything than his team combined, despite his young years. The Breton couldn't count on it, but maybe he had already explained what had happened to the lights.

Liv spotted Morgan prowling around the base of the tree, looking up at the branches like a starving sabre-tooth cat.

"Relax, I'm coming down," Liv called, smirking when the Redguard flinched and reached for his weapon. "Catch these, won't you?" she dropped onto a lower branch, waving the masks at the man. He grumbled a string of insults she pretended not to hear, handing the masks over to Rossi before looking up.

"You gonna get down ok, or should I catch you?"

"I'll be fine, just get out of the way. Please," Liv added when the agent wouldn't budge.

She swung down, hanging by her arms for a moment before dropping and rolling to her feet. "That's everything I have, relating to your case."

"I still don't trust you," Morgan held onto the masks, tucking them into a small black bag he'd brought along.

"I never asked you to trust me."

"That makes me feel _so_ much better about this."

"Glad to ease your concerns. Let's go," Liv straightened, refusing to meet the gaze of either agent. She gently cradled her right hand when they led the way back.

* * *

Spencer had warmed up after several more cups of coffee and a change of warmer clothes. If the man had used dry ice to create the cold he'd felt, there would have been burns on his hands. The lights had exploded when an electrical surge had reached the box, but no-one could offer conclusive evidence as to where the surge had originated. A lot of repair work on the wiring of the building was on the top of the to-do list thanks to the stunt.

No matter what he tried, he just couldn't figure out how the UnSub had managed to create such an intense cold from seemingly nothing. He had no logical explanation. There was nothing he could offer the team about how that happened, and the more he thought about it, the more Liv's sarcastic reply of 'magic' made sense.

He shook his head, making another cup of coffee with shaking hands. He wasn't thinking clearly yet after what had happened, and he supposed the coffee wasn't helping much.

Emily and JJ walked into the kitchenette, both looking relieved to see him ok.

"Thanks," Spencer murmured awkwardly, flashing a quick smile at Emily.

"Of course, I'm just glad you're ok," she smiled, her outstretched hand falling to her side when Reid stepped away from her. He still wasn't ready yet to forgive either of them yet.

"Did you come up with a theory about the cold, Spence?" JJ asked.

"No, I can't think of anything that fits. If he'd used dry ice, his hands would be burned. There are no other tools we can find that he could have used to make the air cold. At least not in his clothes. If there's something else, the ME will have to find it."

"I see…" JJ nodded, taking two cups to make coffee for herself and Emily. "And what do you think about Liv and her story?"

"I think she's not being completely honest about everything," Spencer started, test-tasting his coffee. He threw in another heaped teaspoon of sugar. "But I doubt she'll tell us everything. I don't think she trusts anyone enough to tell the whole truth."

"I don't think she's involved with the UnSub, but Liv definitely knows a whole lot more than she thinks she knows. Rossi said she warmed up to you, maybe she'll talk to you about it," Emily glanced at Reid. "If you're up for talking to her."

Reid nodded quickly, gulping when he scalded his tongue.

"Thanks, JJ. How are you feeling now, Spencer?" Emily asked cautiously, taking her coffee and leaning against the counter.

"Better, I can feel my toes again," Reid nodded, quickly striding out and away from the two women. He sat down at his desk, pushing files and papers away to make space for his coffee.

"Doctor Spencer Reid?" a voice appeared behind him.

"Yes, that's me," Reid rose, taking the sword back from a man sent up by the lab.

"We tried to collect a sample to test the metal, but we can't even scratch it with diamond or other, harder synthetics. Whatever it is, it's sharp and strong. I'm sorry we couldn't find out more."

"No, thanks, that's alright," Reid nodded, signing that the weapon had been returned. He felt a twinge of guilt, thinking back on how Liv had hesitated to hand over the blade, and asked him to keep in within sight at all times.

But he'd needed to know what it was made of, especially after he'd unsheathed the sword and seen the craftsmanship that went into it. The blade itself was almost completely black, and if he stared at it for long enough, it seemed translucent. The guard and hilt were a more opaque greyish-silver-black, accented with the same translucent black as the blade. The rest of the ornamentation was silver, in swirling wave-patterns and dots.

He had barely set the weapon down on the table when Rossi and Morgan returned with Liv, the two other masks most likely with Morgan. Liv kept her eyes downcast, her jacket slung over her linked hands. He wondered briefly if either of the agents had decided to cuff her, but then she brushed back a few loose strands of dark hair.

Reid listened to her point out the names of the masks, and watched as she nodded slowly when Rossi told her she'd be taken to a holding cell. Reid felt a foreign twinge of guilt at seeing her so subdued and compliant. Before he could turn away to focus on her sword, Liv's eyes shot up, searching for something. When her gaze met his, and quickly passed over her sword, she offered a meek smile.

Spencer couldn't help it when his eyes widened at the prolonged contact, grateful when she turned away.

It was as if she could see his very soul.


	6. Evgir Unslaad

**A/N:** I had the most godsawful block, got a degree and a pilot's license between the last chapter and this one. I'm finally feeling free of the block, which is nothing short of amazing. So, enjoy and let me know what you think:) I've edited the previous chapters to read a little easier, though I really wish I could put a hanging first line in the paragraphs. Looks so much nicer than this:|

 **Chapter 6: Evgir Unslaad**

They made the most of the time they held Liv to question her about anything and everything she knew, trying to find out more about her and where she was from, but not even Garcia's tech-talents and the team's best guess work could find much about Liv. The best they could do was determine she'd been to Texas, and that she'd found her way back to Washington with a sword and minimal possessions. Her pack was heavy, even when empty, but they couldn't search it completely and rip out the seams without a warrant.

And there wasn't enough reason, or evidence against Liv to get a warrant.

Liv was hiding something, and the way she spoke to them told Reid that she realized how much she had told them after the initial fight, and despite how relieved she looked when she thought no-one was looking, Liv hadn't intended to ever share that much with anyone.

It clawed at Reid's mind: what had she gone through to keep so much to herself, and to have such difficulty trusting others with the information she had? He doubted he'd find out easily.

Reid's thoughts wandered over the times he had interacted with Liv. He didn't remember much about her from the first time, but every time in the park was as clear to him as she was now, sitting at a table across JJ. While Liv had pushed aside that world-weariness he had seen in the park, he couldn't deny that she was sharp and careful about choosing her words. Liv was firmly sticking to what she'd already said, and refusing to say more. Even JJ with her limitless patience was beginning to show signs of frustration.

Liv tensed every time Morgan entered the room, her back straightening and her bearing becoming almost hostile. It was as if she expected the answers to be beat out of her, or worse.

"What happened to you in your past?" Spencer mused, closing a fist around his chin. Liv was alone in the interrogation room, and habit pulled her arms around herself, holding the sword she –

"She said it was a weapon from the moment we met!" Spencer realized. Morgan and Hotch glanced at each other. "On the metro, she said that the sword was the only thing she hadleftofhomeandsheclearly –"

"Reid, slow down!" Morgan held up a hand. "Talk slowly for the mere mortals, 'kay?"

"Sorry," Reid gasped, trying again. "Okay, so, when Rossi and I went to find her at the park, we brought her back via the metro."

"Okay…" Morgan nodded with a frown.

"Then, on the metro, I asked Liv what the sword was – you remember it was wrapped up and hidden by her jacket – and she didn't tell us exactly what it was. Only that 'it was all she had left of home, and the only way she would part with it, was if she was dead'. Liv then added that she 'might be convinced to stick around and turn it into a haunted _weapon_ '." Reid grinned proudly.

Hotchner folded his arms across his chest. "You don't think she realized she'd said it was a weapon at the time, but that she'd rather spoken out of fondness for it," the dark-haired man nodded. "Do you think you can get her to talk about it, and go from there to get more information?"

"I can try," Reid nodded, hurrying out of the viewing room.

Morgan joined Hotch at the one-way window. "Don't you find it strange she hasn't asked for a lawyer yet, Hotch?"

* * *

Liv was beginning to think the agents had forgotten about her, and that perhaps she could attempt an escape when Spencer walked in, Qahnaarin held awkwardly in his long fingers.

"Hey," he smiled, walking in and setting Qahnaarin on the table. She wanted nothing more than to snatch up the blade, but she waited, gingerly running her fingers along the edges of the sheath.

"Thank you," she looked up with a small smile.

"Can I… get you something? Coffee, tea?" Spencer asked, still standing.

"Coffee sounds good, thanks. As is," she added when Spencer opened his mouth again.

"No sugar?" he asked, incredulous. Liv shook her head. "I don't know how anyone manages that. I'll be right back."

She smiled, shaking her head at the young doctor. He must have taken a risk giving Qahnaarin to her, and was trusting she wouldn't try to force her way out. She had only realized just how much she'd said once Agent Rossi had led her to a holding cell and left her alone with her thoughts.

Liv had said _far_ too much. She couldn't find the will to feel guilty, though. It had felt good to let it all out.

Now she was stuck in _evgir unslaad_ , a war of sorts, with these agents. They wanted information she wouldn't give them, and while she knew they knew she wouldn't give out her information, she also sensed they couldn't do much more than they already had to her.

But they were crafty, Liv had to admit. They had tried everything from the kind and sweet JJ to the more aggressive and physical Morgan. Now they were sending in Spencer, the one she had inadvertently opened up to the day before.

Liv had to hold her ground today: she didn't have a choice if she wanted out.

Spencer came back with two steaming mugs of coffee, setting hers down before sitting down across from her. Liv slowly sipped at the hot, rich drink, waiting for Spencer to make the first move.

She didn't have to wait long.

"So, tell me more about your sword. It's pretty heavy," he chuckled incredulously.

Liv looked up at him, then back at Qahnaarin with a critical eye. "I suppose so, yes."

"You're used to carrying it?"

"Of course," Liv sipped again, almost smiling when the young agent was thrown off by her short answers.

"Does it have a name?"

"Should it?"

"What?"

"My sword," Liv clarified. "Should it have a name?"

Spencer shrugged, thinking for a moment. "Well, it's clearly special to you. And you said it's all you have left of home, so I'd actually be surprised if it _wasn't_ named."

Liv smiled over her cup. "Yes, it is named."

"Will you tell me its name?"

"Not today."

"So, one day, maybe?" Spencer looked hopeful. Liv nodded slowly. "Liv, how long have you had this sword?"

"You should drink your coffee before it gets cold."

"You must've had it for a long time for it to mean so much to you."

Liv clenched her teeth. She'd had Qahnaarin forged soon after the attack in Helgen, spending most of the money she had inherited from her parents on it. She'd traveled with Qahnaarin for nearly four years. Her travel companions, horses, and even armor had changed at times, but Qahnaarin had always stayed by her side, through thick and thin. Liv turned back to Spencer, watching him watch her.

She almost smirked when he squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze.

Delphine had told her that the Dragonborns were known for their piercing gazes, and Liv would use it to her benefit, letting her gaze linger before she had mercy on him.

"Is there anything else you'd like to talk about?" she asked, looking into the depths of her coffee.

"Will you tell me the truth?"

"That would depend on what the 'truth' really is, and if I know it."

She listened as Spencer leaned back in his chair, then leaned forwards. The sharp breath in, the slow release as he thought about how to answer her.

"Tell me about the three masks," he finally said, setting his cup down on the table.

"There are three of them, named, and you have them in your possession," Liv answered, instinct telling her to reach for Qahnaarin, logic telling her to sit still.

"But you think there could be more of them somewhere in the world? Specifically, at least six others, since you said you believe that there could be nine people related to the three we've found."

Liv pushed her cup onto the table, leaning on her elbows when she rubbed her hands across her face to buy time. She almost missed the backwards glance Spencer threw at the mirror across from her.

Almost, but not quite.

She hid her hands under the table, focusing on her magicka. The lights would flicker for a moment when she released the magicka to activate the spell. But Liv had to know if there was someone behind the mirror, someone who could be watching the proceedings.

Spencer started talking about the masks again, Liv just listening enough to catch a question. Her magicka was bundled and within reach, all she had to do now, was shape its purpose and release it into the world. She took a deep breath and cast her Detect Life, squinting when the lights above her flickered. Spencer glowed blue in front of her, and just behind the mirror were two shapes, one calm and still and blue, and the other fidgety, shifting from foot to foot and…

 _He's purple?_ Liv wondered. She had never seen a living being glow purple before, unless the spell couldn't determine if the being was an ally or an enemy…. Liv's eyes widened slightly when she realized who it could be: Derek Morgan, sworn not to hurt her but definitely not her friend.

"Hm?" Liv turned back to the fading blue Spencer.

"Do you think you know where he is?" he repeated slowly. "Alldwin?"

Liv blinked. She had reacted to one of his questions. "No, I don't know. I also don't know where he might go, or anything else about anything that's useful, and you have more resources at your disposal than I do. Look, I've said all I can and all I know about everything you've all asked me about, and I have nothing more to offer. What happens to me now?"

Spencer Reid pursed his lips. "Well, we can't hold you indefinitely. Is there anything I can do, or get for you?" he asked, rising.

Liv shook her head. She gently pushed Qahnaarin across the table to him. "I suppose you should take this with you."

* * *

"I really don't think she has anything more to say," Reid confessed to his team. "Judging by the state of her things, she's not going anywhere and though she may be too proud to ask for help, we can't make her take it or give it. Also, she _technically_ hasn't gotten in the way of any investigation, and we have no solid evidence against her to have her arrested. Everything is circumstantial at best."

Hotch nodded, looking up when Morgan started pacing. "I don't like it. She _does_ know a whole lot more than she's saying. I just wish I could get her to talk."

"I know, I tried," Reid studied his hands, clasped in his lap.

Morgan sighed. "I'm not blaming you, Kid. I just don't understand why she's so stubborn. None of us could get through to her, and we all tried."

"I know," Reid nodded.

"At least you got her to talk a bit about her sword. We can use the weapon's physical description to search for any information on it, and we now know what she looks like so we can try to track her whereabouts from before now," Prentiss added.

"I think we should let her go and see where she goes," Rossi spoke up. "She seems like a creature of habit, but also one who would check up on anything important she has hidden somewhere. We know she's homeless, and that she probably lives in the park. We'll keep watch from there."

* * *

Liv wasn't sure if they decided to follow her. She wasn't entirely sure she _wanted_ to know, but she returned to her park, and went about her routine as normal, in the hopes they'd leave her alone.

She didn't see Spencer again in the park, and the Breton had to admit she was a little disappointed. But it made sense: she was a person of interest to them, they couldn't allow their own to get attached to her.

The Breton would go about her usual business, meditating in the park, going out to places that showed the news in the boxes, and come back to her park, going up to her tree for the evening. There really wasn't much more they could expect of her, was there?

Well… technically there was. "But I'd better keep it to myself," she murmured, settling in her perch. She sighed, practicing forming her magic. How in Oblivion had Alduin managed to teach his priests to use magic so easily? Magic didn't exist here!

Liv blinked.

"Maybe that's the problem…" she mused. "Maybe I need to stop thinking of it as something that does or doesn't exist somewhere…."

* * *

Nearly a month of observation and research turned up almost nothing new on Liv. She was almost a ghost, and Reid wanted to know why. But other, more pressing cases eventually took the lead, and Liv was a riddle to be solved at a later stage.

He'd even forgotten about his theory about the missing people and the freak storms.

Never minding that she'd managed to escape the detail on her, and had seemingly vanished overnight once the month was up. It had been two weeks since then, and they hadn't found her anywhere yet. Even Morgan had to admit he was impressed by how efficiently she had escaped them.

It was almost magic.

"We have another case!" JJ called, walking through the cubicles with Garcia hot on her heels, tablet held high.

Reid followed, Morgan and the others filing into the boardroom shortly after.

"Ok, so. We're heading to New Orleans for this one," Garcia started, placing Reid's paper file in front of him. "There are a few… murder-sleep things that have happened. The women are all incredibly beautiful, I must admit I'm a _little_ jealous, and they were uhm, incapacitated by a yet-undetermined-cause, a single red rose placed in their mouth. That's all we know about them."

Images light up the presentation screen.

"They're not dead?" Hotch raised a brow, looking up from the tablet. Garcia opened her mouth to reply.

"They were found dressed in white with the roses between their teeth?" Reid glanced over the details in his file, his eyes snapping to the screen every so often.

"Yup – and near bodies of water, too. And no… they don't seem to be dead, but they're not alive, either. They all appear to be sleeping, but there's no real pulse, occasional sign of brain activity and no way to wake them up. Yet, anyway. But according to the medical examiner, they're still warm, and they stay that way. Even the very first one, from two weeks ago. They're concerned about doing an autopsy because of that. They took a few blood samples, but can't find anything yet."

Hotch nodded. "Wheels up in thirty. We'll discuss more on the way."

* * *

Reid glanced at the pictures, wondering briefly if Liv would've taken an interest in the case. He shook his head: he had better things to focus on, such as how these women were kept in this sleep-state.

Liv heaved a sigh. She'd _finally_ made it to the next priest, following the soft ripple of a much weaker thu'um and magicka to a city called New Orleans. The Breton had to admit, it was a rather unusual place, to say the least. Everywhere she went was full of life and vibrant music and good food, with a history of witchcraft and slavery she hadn't quite expected. It was very different to what she had grown up with, sneaking into a 'tourist venue' with a large group, soaking in the information.

 _They're definitely a lot closer to herbalists than witches_ , she mused, barely managing to slip out with the group as easily as she'd snuck in. Liv heaved a sigh, making her way to a cheap restaurant, hoping to peddle her offer of serving or cleaning for at least one meal. She'd go looking for the priest after this day was through: after all, the priest had fallen silent for now. And sifting through the various cults she had discovered today would be a challenge unto itself.

Finding out which priest she was dealing with would be a problem, too, considering how unlike anything she'd known the deaths were. It was clearly a poison, in her opinion, and a very rare, very expensive poison to boot.

But she would only be able to confirm – or disprove – her theory after a solid examination of the bodies. And that required access to them.

Access Liv didn't have.

She managed to get a temporary position waiting tables, and kept up with the news while she worked, finding out through idle chatter where the bodies were found, which precinct they were being held in. She'd scout the places in the evening before finding some secluded place to sleep, and scour the dumping locations for any clues law enforcement might have missed.

Liv hadn't expected to hear that the BAU were in town to help track down the killer, and while it was a little like a troll crashing into a merchant wagon, it wasn't something she couldn't work around. She just needed to be extra careful about their paths crossing.

The Thalmor had been at least as challenging to deal with, if not more. Spencer and his team at least had some sense of law and morality guiding them, keeping them within limits. The Justiciars she'd encountered were much less forgiving.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and Liv rolled her shoulders before hefting her pack and hitchhiking over to the swamp where the bodies had been found.

Secluded, out of the way, and yet not so quiet that the bodies wouldn't be found.

"Why? Why would you want people to find them?" she asked the night, frowning at the breeze that played with her hair.


	7. Krosis, Fahdon

**Chapter 7: Krosis, Fahdon**

Liv shivered in the early morning, hurrying back to the café where she was working and trying to warm up a little. Her jacket wasn't quite enough to fight off the chill of a night sleeping under the stars, and she still hadn't been able to save up enough to buy a blanket yet.

"Earth merchants with their damn paper money," she muttered, blowing warm air onto her hand and rubbing them together, finally making it to the back entrance where she was expected to enter.

"I just can't believe it, you know? How do you just… _do that_?"

Liv looked up, finding one of her fellow waitresses shaking her head, looking distraught. The young man she'd worked with yesterday – Blake? Blake! – awkwardly patted the other girl's shoulder.

"What… happened?" Liv asked, wary of crossing into unwanted territory.

"Well, her friend's sister joined a coven recently," he started, then sighed.

"It's fine, Blake. She joined, which is fine. Everyone's gotta do what they gotta do, but then she started pulling away from her family, her friends. And she kept going on about the leader, some guy called Ohtan or Othan –"

 _Otar?_ Liv wondered, frowning as the blonde went on.

"Or whatever, and well, they managed to keep her in one place for long enough to talk to her, but…" she trailed, looking at the ground and worrying her lower lip, scuffing her shoes instead of opening the door to let them in. "No-one's seen her in a few days. She left a note saying she didn't want to talk to anyone from her family ever again, that the coven was the 'right way'. How can anyone do that?"

Liv shook her head. "I don't know. It's cruel, I agree. And I'm sorry about that. Maybe, there's a chance that she's just trying to put things in order before she leaves?" she added, watching the blonde's eyes light up a little at the thought.

She nodded, offering a small smile. "We should go get ready. I'm Amanda, by the way."

"Liv. Nice to meet you," she smiled, filing in behind her, and Blake behind Liv.

They swept, cleaned, and prepped the café for the morning rush. It passed by in a blur of people and colors and scents, until Liv was let off at the lunch shift. She'd need to be back by eight for the evening shift, and the time in between was enough to investigate this new coven a little more.

As it was, the victims certainly weren't dying by anything that seemed normal in this world, no matter how anyone tried to reason it. But there was nothing she could do about them for now, so she would turn her attention elsewhere.

She knew there was a priest here, and it almost made sense that the priest was Otar the Mad. Insane enough to form a radical cult, bright and charming enough to lure them all in and terrifying enough to keep them there, from her research back in Skyrim.

It took some maneuvering on her part, but she managed to track down someone who knew people in the coven – a term Liv disliked for how misleading it was – and where they would meet.

"Look, sugar, I get that you're interested and all, but not just anyone gets in," he chuckled, dreadlocks swaying as he shook his head. "You look and sound like you're new in town, and that just isn't going to fly. Why don't you come back a little later, maybe I can get to know you a little better before I decide to let you in?"

She rolled her eyes, heaving a sigh to the man's amusement. "Alright, fine. I'll come back later, too," she said summoning her magicka and molding it into a charm spell, touching his arm to activate it. The rush of . "But you're sure you can't at least give me a hint?"

"Sugar, I'd love to," he said smiling down at her. At least his pupils were dilated, a sign the spell was working. "Maybe, shit. Okay, they usually meet at the old church."

"Yeah?" she smiled, cursing silently when the spell wore off much faster than it should have. She was slowly getting better at magic here, but not good enough.

The man chuckled, watching her hand fall to her side. "I've already said enough. I'll see you tonight, if you're still this interested," he said, turning to leave with a grin and an overconfident sway.

Liv let her smile drop, growling softly. "Damn this place to Oblivion."

* * *

"And you say the bodies have been this warm and pliant all this time?" Reid asked, voice soft as he bent over one of the victims in the morgue, gloved hands feeling the warmth still radiating from her skin, totally loose and pliant.

"Yes. From what we can tell, rigor mortis never set in, but they don't seem to wake up. It's not a coma, and they're not dead, but they sure as hell aren't alive," the woman frowned, crossing her arms over her chest with a heavy sigh.

"Fascinating…" Reid breathed, shuffling around the table to examine the victim as best he could.

Morgan and the doctor exchanged a look, then he shook his head. "Alright. So what about any substances in their bodies? Anything we can find?"

"Nothing at all. I've run test for everything from the mundane to the extraordinary, from the common to the nearly impossible. I can't find a single damn thing about what did this to them. And I've got four of them in less than a week. It's a problem."

"Yeah, I agree," Morgan murmured, pursing his lips. "What –"

"There's nothing much else on them, before you ask. The roses come from a local florist who sells dozens of bouquets. There's no real way to track them down to a specific murderer, and nothing so far has connected them other than the way they're found. A brunette, a blonde, fat girl, thin girl, white girl, black girl. Maybe with your resources you can find something we're missing, but I don't know what the hell is connecting them. Or how to help them," the doctor scowled, biting off a few grumbled mutters.

"We'll need to cross reference their social lives, see if they're meeting somewhere we're missing. Maybe they have a mutual friend, or frequent a specific place together," Reid said, finally straightening and puttering over the other three victims. "Their diversity is a little concerning, but it just proves that they're connected somewhere else."

"Well, take your time with them. I need to go deal with _actual_ dead bodies and reports. If you need me, I'll be in my office," she said, nodding her farewell.

"Thanks, we appreciate it," Morgan returned, offering a smile before moving over to Reid. "So, Pretty Boy, what are you thinking?"

"A lot of things, and none that really make any sense at all. I –" he cut himself off, clearing his throat. Mentioning Liv now wasn't a good idea. He'd already had JJ try to coax him into letting his mini obsession with her and magic go. "I think I want to study something in the medical field after this."

"Really?"

"Could be useful. I can't see anything unusual. Any abrasions look like they came from something normal, like scraping through something thorny. Probably on the way to the swamp, so nothing that's not on the report. Nothing unusual. We should go talk to the families, see if there's anything new we can find out."

"Hotch and Prentiss are working on that, so we can go through the rest of the casework with JJ and Rossi," Morgan nodded, letting Reid take his time to finish up and follow him out. "I've seen all sorts of strange, but this takes the cake."

"Mm. I'm not actually sure what to make of it yet, but the challenge is welcome," Reid nodded, the pair announcing their departure and thanking the coroner for her assistance. She waved them off, telling them they were welcome back whenever they felt the need to return.

The rest of the day passed slowly, with Garcia making a few calls and checking in with new leads until she finally found a number that texted all four of the victims, decoding the messages to reveal the location of an old, abandoned church out in the countryside.

It was a break that they needed, and Reid was feeling good about it, too.

Further investigation led to knowledge about a recent coven that had sprung up, though rumors were all the team managed to get out of anyone. It was closed off, tight-lipped about its comings and goings, and especially its members.

All they managed to discover, was that it seemed to like pulling in young adults as members. Reid was more than happy to volunteer himself to pose as a potential new recruit, and see what exactly was happening within its walls.

Except they couldn't find a contact to talk to, and he suspected that the members had figured out that he was part of the team trying to get more information on them.

They just needed to keep trying.

* * *

Liv barely made the meet once her shift was over, puffing indignantly at her contact's amusement. It had taken a few more well-timed charm spells and a few honeyed words before he finally agreed to take her to the old church where they usually met, and now she stood with a red, soft-glass – _Plastic, Liv,_ she reminded herself – filled with some kind of cheap alcohol, wondering what exactly she was doing with a group of… _children_.

They were acting that way, anyway, and all of them seemed perfectly content to speak in absolute riddles about the coven head.

"Liv? What are _you_ doing here?"

She turned, eyes widening before they narrowed to scowl at Doctor Spencer Reid. "What am _I_ doing here? What about _you_?" she asked, shoulders tense.

"I'm here…" he paused, then leaned in. "On _official_ business."

Liv glanced away, then smiled and grabbed the front of his shirt. "Play with, they're watching us," she murmured, letting her smirk grow a little when he blushed, guiding him to a small outside area where they could talk. "What in Oblivion do you mean you're here on 'official business'? The way you're going now, you'll mess up what I'm trying to do," she frowned.

"What you're trying to do? I –"

She waited, watching as he seemed to listen to something she couldn't hear.

"Okay, yeah. Liv, what exactly are you doing here?"

"Getting information," she shrugged, ears pricked for any sounds coming towards them.

"Is there a priest involved?" he asked quietly.

She clenched her jaw, looking away and crossing her arms. There was at least one priest involved that she knew of, anyway.

"If you know something, can we work together?" he offered.

Liv turned to stare, frowning at him. "What?" she stammered quietly. Work together? It made sense… but she'd always worked alone, and –

"I mean," Spencer continued, shuffling awkwardly and rubbing the back of his neck, "I just think that we're working on the same thing and we can get things done faster, working together."

"I, uhm, well, okay," she breathed after a moment.

"Okay? 'Okay', you'll think about it or –"

"'Okay, I'll work _with_ you' okay," she clarified, offering him a faint but stiff smile. "We'll just get each other in trouble if we don't, and maybe we can cover more ground this way."

Spencer blinked, then beamed at her. "Great! That's great, and we can get started."

Liv nodded, gently guiding him back inside when a Redguard stopped them.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes, we met a several years ago and I was just so surprised to see him again that I had to talk to him alone for a moment," Liv said, keeping her hands to herself but standing close to Spencer, noting the faint tension in his shoulder when he nodded in agreement.

"Alright then, if you say so," the Redguard woman said, eyes narrowing as she moved away to socialize.

Too close. If Otar found out she was here, she'd be in much deeper trouble than Doctor Reid and the FBI could handle, or throw her way.

The rest of the evening went by quietly, unassuming despite their efforts to mingle and find out more. They'd _both_ spoken to everyone, at least twice. One young man on the other end of the room, though, caught Liv's eye, though, and she did her best to keep him in sight.

He was either severely malnourished, or still a teenager despite his height, with a thin, lanky frame under baggy 'jeans' and an even baggier hooded jacket. His face was hidden under the hood, and several people seemed to lean in whenever he spoke.

Most, actually, looked annoyed with him. As if he was speaking too quietly.

Spencer shifted, moving slightly more to her front to hide her staring. "See something interesting?"

"Yeah, there's someone with an interesting grey jacket at the back. I quite like it," she mused, watching with baited breath when the teen's hand reached up to the hood, then pulled back as if he was forcing it away. He wandered from group to group, not really participating in any conversation he joined. When he passed by Liv and Spencer, she had to admit that he felt… sad, compared to the other people in the room.

She needed to start with him, turning around Spencer to describe the man so he could also keep an eye on him, and offer his opinion.

"I see him. He looks sad," Spencer frowned, pretending to sip from a red cup filled with beer.

Liv nodded. "He does. Pity about the hood he keeps up."

"Yeah, true," Spencer sighed, the two of them moving off to get more finger food to keep up with the young man's movements.

Liv turned her back to the counter, looking over the crowd. An older man walked up to the teen, taking his arm and pulling him to one side with barely contained rage.

 _This should be interesting,_ she mused, watching them talk. Well, the _man_ talked, and the teen nodded slowly, his shoulders slumping.

She followed the man's gestures to a conversation where a young woman looked disgusted at something, her friends agreeing sympathetically.

"See anything?" Reid asked, turning back to her just as the teen approached the group, the crown closing off her view.

"No. Nothing at all."

Liv was quite sure she'd just found Otar, and she wasn't about to share.

* * *

 _He sighed, licking his lips slowly before sucking them into his mouth. The pocket knife in his hand was barely two inches long, barely a few grams, but it felt like a lead weight dragging him down._

 _He hated doing this. Hated being the one the others pushed around._

 _Hated being the weakest, the softest of them all._

 _She was pretty, this Creole girl, all confidence and wit and full of life._

Just a scratch, that's all it takes _, he reminded himself, talking with her as he walked her home, feeling guilt pull down his heart to his shoes. He'd never wanted this, not the way it had been given._

 _But he was more afraid of Otar than he was willing to act on his conscience. Nahkriin and Hevnoraak were the only other two he feared more._

 _Languorwine was expensive and hard enough to brew, and yielded such precious little of the poison that bare drops had to suffice. At least it was highly efficient._

 _She followed blindly when he led her to where he'd left all the others that had rejected Otar, barely noticing where they were until it was too late._

" _Hey, where are we?" she asked, looking over the swamp curiously, wariness finally creeping into her eyes. "I mean, it's really cool, and all, but it's kinda weird."_

 _He flicked open the blade he needed, careful not to touch too much of the cutting edge._

" _Oh, damn. I usually come here to think. Guess I was just enjoying talking to you so much I forgot where we were going," he chuckled sheepishly, meeting her gaze when she turned to face him, eyes rolling with a soft smirk._

" _Krosis, fahdon," he murmured, grabbing her wrist before she could reply._

" _Hey! What –"_

 _He pocketed the knife in time to catch her as she collapsed, licking his lips before sucking them in between his teeth._

 _Just one scratch was all it took, Krosis knew, laying her down and placing a rose between her teeth._


	8. Hunted

**Chapter 8: Hunted**

Spencer was the one to pick her up again outside the diner when another call came in, one of the girls from the party in the same near-comatose state as the others.

Liv was uncomfortable in the morgue, body ready for any kind of action and reaction. It was below the police station, the… _doctor_ … was oddly clinical about the bodies down here. It was a stark difference to the Priests of Arkay in Tamriel, who would care for the dead with an uncomfortably intimate care, much like a living, sick person might've been treated.

But at least it was familiar.

She had the distinct feeling that she wasn't entirely welcome, judging by Morgan's quiet glare and Hotchner's impassive gaze. Even Prentiss seemed reasonably suspicious.

She didn't blame them, but it left her with Rossi and Spencer, the soft hum of electrical appliances surrounding her.

"So. You think you have an idea about what's wrong with them?" the doctor asked, a brow raised as she crossed her arms.

"I might, yes. You say they're not actually dead yet?"

"Yet being the operative word. And it's only a _probability_ that they're still alive."

Liv rolled her eyes, walking up to one of the women. "May I?"

"Go for it. At this point, I'll take almost any fresh view."

Spencer stepped back to give Liv space, Rossi standing beside the doctor as the Breton made her way around the body, careful and respectful as she examined her. She was surprised by the sheer softness of the girl's limbs, the flesh not showing a single sign of decomposition.

"What about these scratches on her arms?"

"Superficial. Barely worth noting," the doctor shrugged. "Probably not even from the same night, let alone anything to cause this."

Liv hummed, unconvinced.

If the priests were using magic, why couldn't they also make use of some of the unique poisons and potions available in Tamriel?

She carefully raised the girl's arm, sniffing the cut.

There was a scent, barely there, but present.

"She's the oldest one, yes?"

"Yup. The latest victim is coming through in as soon as the initial investigation at the scene is done," Spencer nodded. "And the blonde Caucasian was the last victim."

Liv nodded, moving over to the other two and finding similar scratches and the same faded scent before going to the blonde, and finding a single, long scratch on her thigh.

"Damn. I thought I was weird with finding things out with dead bodies," the doctor muttered, watching with detached curiosity.

Liv ignored her, finally catching the scent. Grape, nightshade, deathbell – definitely a poison – along with the sulfur, ash and copper that signaled a daedra heart.

"Langorwine…" she murmured, taking a step back to clear her nose of scent and tried again. "Yes. Thought so. Very rare, very expensive and time-consuming to make. And it yields so little, too…. Whoever's brewing this is good," she nodded, pursing her lips.

The antidote was a corruption of the poison, and she'd need at least a full month to make the poison, and about a week for the antidote.

Unless she could track Otar directly, and steal the langorwine from him. Then she only needed a week to make the antidote, preferably somewhere they weren't watching her work.

"So you know what it is?" Spencer asked, eyes lighting up.

"Yeah, I do. The good news is, they're all definitely alive, and if they get the antidote, they'll just need some time to walk off the stiffness. The bad news is, you made the antidote from the poison, and it'll be nearly impossible to make enough to make an antidote. Unless we st– _take_ it from the perpetrator," Liv nodded.

"Poison? Nothing came up in my tests," the doctor frowned.

"It shouldn't show up. It's designed to be highly potent – only one drop and a shallow scratch is needed for it to take effect – and it tends to… dissolve and evaporate quickly," she shrugged, thinking. "It usually only yields about… a thimble-full, but to have this many victims and more coming, whoever's brewing it has a whole lot more stored up. More than enough to make an antidote to give everyone here."

"Why can't you tell us how to make it? Or make it now?" Spencer asked.

"Because I don't really know how to explain the process, and it's extremely complicated," Liv said, shifting uncomfortably. People here didn't take kindly to the kind of secrets she was forced to keep, and standing here in the morgue, she doubted it would come any easier. "But I need to get to work, and there's nothing more I can do here. Just find the perpetrator first, and then from there, we can find the poison."

Spencer looked the most put out, the doctor and Rossi looking mostly… impassive, at best.

Liv just hoped that she could get to the poison before they did, and Otar, too.

* * *

The FBI finally got busy enough to Liv to return to her day job at the café, and start plotting how to get to Otar. The blonde girl who'd talked about her friend's missing sister slunk closer during their lunch break, practically begging Liv to do something after she'd seen her with the agents.

Liv couldn't believe her luck: an address, one that hopefully led straight to the priest.

Unfortunately her eagerness to get to work made her a little shorter than she should have been with customers, a little too sharp at the edges with rowdy children and stuck up 'soccer moms'.

She didn't understand the term, and she didn't really care to, either. The women's personalities spoke volumes, especially with their attitude towards meal preparation, and how long it took. Too long, too hot, meals not arriving at the same time – the latter of which Liv conceded was a valid point – too cold, oh, there's an out-of-place spice in the plate.

It was maddening, to say the very least. But she bit down and bore on, apologizing to the manager when Liv received a raised brow on the way to the kitchen.

She didn't think of herself as particularly proud, but as the savior of Tamriel, the _Dragonborn_ , for the love of the Divines, Liv of Riverwood had fallen far.

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Garcia said, her voice crackling slightly over the phone's speakers. "We're working with super-secret-sword-girl-and-potential-murderer, and we've actually made a minor leap in the case, right?"

"That's right, Baby Doll," Morgan nodded, sighing and running a hand over his face, offering Reid a small smile when he shifted self-consciouly in his seat.

"And because of her, we know that the victims aren't dead at all, but rather poisoned?"

"Yes," JJ added.

"But she can't cure them because she needs and poison to do it, and our baddie is stockpiling it somewhere? But, why?"

"We don't know yet, Dollface. That's the problem. If we knew why he was stocking it up, we could narrow him down. But we don't have much in the way of evidence, other than all the girls were involved in the same group-cult," Morgan said.

"I think she can still help us. I trust that Liv wants this to end as much as we do. So I think she'll stick around right up till the end to make sure that we've closed this case," Spencer nodded, twirling the pen between his fingers.

"I think that's hoping for a bit much. She's hiding something, that could either help us one hell of a lot, or it could be the thing that kills us if we don't know what it is," Morgan reasoned.

He hated being the one to pop Reid's bubble about this girl. But his gut kept telling him something wasn't right, there was more to it than they knew, and Reid seemed hell-bent on ignoring that, whatever the cost was.

"I know, I know," he said, impatient as he stared at the desk. "I just…. She can help us. She knows enough of what's going on to have a good idea of the next move. I really think we should bring her in and ask her to help us, officially."

The room was quiet for a beat, even Garcia's perpetual movements in her cyber-fortress were silent.

"As a consultant?" Rossi asked, frowning in thought.

"That might not be such a bad idea. We want to keep an eye on her, anyway," Prentiss said, giving Morgan an apologetic shrug when he looked her way. "If she _is_ homeless like we suspect, then I could offer her my couch for a few weeks. She'd be close enough for us to get to know each other, and we could use her insights. It's up to you, Hotch."

"I'd also rather have her close, but what you're suggesting is incredibly personal," Hotch frowned, the furrow between his brows deepening. "Let's get through this case first, and then we'll talk to her and go from there. Now, I'd like to over everything we've discovered today and see how we can tie that in. Garcia?"

"Yes sir! Ready to roll," she replied, the sound of her chair rolling back into place coming though.

"I want you to try and locate the address of the person holding that cell number."

"I'll work my magic! Good luck," she called cheerily, the soft click and a cheap tune beeping out as the phone call ended.

"I guess she got that singing pen after all," Morgan sighed, shaking his head fondly.

* * *

Liv managed to track down a house that resonated with magic later that afternoon, moving carefully around the interior to search for an alchemy lab, or anything resembling it. The whole interior had the heady, sweet smell of something like hashish and sharp incense, hiding any scent of the potions and poisons.

It was frustrating, especially when she struggled to pick the locks, and she only managed to pull up enough control and magicka for a spell to open easy locks.

She finally made it to the basement, finding several alembics, calcinators, retorts and some other stranger apparatuses that she didn't recognize.

Some 'modern' rubbish that this world loved so much.

But scattered around the worktable, on shelves and other makeshift stands, were potion ingredients, many of which Liv recognized. She sighed in relief, scouting for wherever the finished potions and poisons would be kept and strode over to the shelf in question.

"Damn… he's good. too good for this to be only Otar," she murmured, finding potent bottles of magicka potions, poisons, healing potions, spell resistances, enhancements…. By Oblivion, she even found one for 'improved virility', that was 'more effective than the previous batch'.

Who would need that? And just how much more effective would it be?

"Doesn't matter… I need the langorwine," she murmured, looking through the bottles until she found two hidden in the back. They were small, just as she'd expected, in dark blue bottles clearly labeled as 'Langorwine'.

"Oh good. Great," Liv sighed in relief, pocketing them and creeping back up the stairs in time to hear the front door open.

 _Shit. I need to leave, now!_ She glanced around for an exit, calculating her chances.

To go back through the bedroom she'd entered from would put her in plain view of the entrance hall for quite a while, or she'd need to make noise to hurry through. Making for the dining area would require some planning and the hope that the window would actually unlock from the inside. That left the kitchen, uncomfortably close to the front of the house, but at least she knew there was a door, and windows.

Or… Liv could try for the other room she'd scouted for entrance, finding its interior too dark to plan a proper entrance. The door _had_ creaked when she tried to open it earlier, though, and she'd bypassed it because of that.

She had to try.

With the bottles safely wrapped and tucked, she hurried through the house to the shuffling of the person at the door, listening to the soft voice talk to itself. Too quiet to hear if it was male or female.

 _Pity. Would've been useful,_ she thought, almost silent until she reached the door to her exit. _Please please_ please _be quiet,_ she prayed, pushing it open slowly and smoothly.

"Krosis? That you?"

Liv froze.

Voice bleary with sleep and possibly a hangover of sorts, but unmistakably waking.

Two. Two priests. No wonder the potions were the quality they were: Krosis was a master alchemist.

"Yeah yeah, I just got back," the voice from the door called, annoyed and defeated.

"What? Then who –"

Liv bolted at the shifting from inside the room, making for the front door.

"Fucking thief! Stop him!"

She barreled right through Krosis, knocking him into the wall as she wrenched the door open and ran, Otar hot on her tail for someone mostly out for the count.

Where to go? Into the city would get her arrested. Another house would put its potential occupants in harm's way.

But the swamp wasn't far away, already spotting the beginning of a trail she'd noticed when she first scouted the area.

It was her best chance. She had to take down at least Otar, if she couldn't take both.

* * *

Liv caught her breath behind a tree, breathing slow and deep as she strained for any sound around her. Any indication that the pair found her, that they were nearby.

Nothing. Just the unearthly quiet that came right before the storm.

She had one hand wrapped loosely around Qahnaarin's hilt, ready to draw and attack if she needed to. Twigs snapped behind her, and Liv swept out, drawing Qahnaarin only to halt her attack, half-snarling at the teenager from the cult gathering the previous night.

"Wait! Just, wait," he said, holding up one hand, trying to placate her and defend himself. His knuckles were white on the hilt of a small knife, straightening slowly. "I just…. Can we talk?"

"Talk? About what?"

"About –"

"Oh, good. finally you did something good and found her," Otar snarled, a long dagger in his hand. "Kill her already and be done with it, Krosis."

The younger glanced at Otar, shifting nervously. Liv glared at both of them, stance balanced and ready for an attack or a defense. Krosis kept adjust his grip on the hilt, taking two shallow breaths that moved his shoulders.

Liv's eyes cut back to him. He was hesitating. He didn't want to kill, so that's –

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Otar growled, jumping at Liv.

 _Sloppy, open_ , she thought, sidestepping his attack and catching his knife with Qahnaarin, batting his wrist aside and drawing her blade through his belly.

She never liked the soft feel of flesh splitting open like this, swinging the blade around to drive it through Otar's heart.

She wrenched the blade free, turning to Krosis. He wanted to talk, so they'd talk.

But a sharp pain lanced out from her side, gasping at the twist of a knife.

"Well. Looks like my intervention wasn't quite as necessary, _Dragonborn_."

"Hevnoraak…."

Krosis all but whimpered the name, shrinking back a little further. In all the commotion, Liv hadn't noticed the third priest sneaking up behind her, holding the knife buried in her side.

"Now, I'd love to stay and chat, but honestly Krosis and I need to leave," she said, tilting her head to the side under the iron mask. "Thanks for dealing with the little problem we call Otar for me. His _indulgences_ were costly. Bye now, Liv," she chuckled, swiftly pulling out the knife and strode to Krosis and pulled him up by the arm.

Hevnoraak didn't spare Liv a second glance as her knees gave out, clutching at the wound and trying to muster up the will to heal it.

"My car's waiting outside your house. Pull up your hood and get in. It's the blue BMW," Hevnoraak said, pushing him down the path. Sirens wailed in the distance, filling Liv with a sense of dread.

"What –"

"I said, _go_."

"Hey," Liv barked, looking up at Krosis as he flinched and paused. "Tell Alduin I _will_ stop him. He can't hide from me forever."

Hevnoraak snorted, shaking her head. "Get going, Kid. Now, I don't suppose you'll have Rahgot, Vokun and Volsung's masks on you, _Dragonborn_?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, _Hevnoraak_ ," she snarled back, the world shuddering at her Voice.

"Ooh, scary. I'll be taking Otar, then," the woman said, aiming past Liv for Otar.

The Breton pushed herself up, cursing her poor form and the burning wound at her side as she swung wildly at Hevnoraak, catching her arm and the jaw of her mask.

The priest yowled, recoiling and moving to strike.

The sirens were a lot louder now, both of them turning to look. Liv stood between her and the mask.

Hevnoraak made a frustrated sound, choosing to flee instead.

A wise move, and one Liv would need to copy as soon as possible. She wiped down Qahnaarin and sheathed it, fishing out a small healing potion she'd stolen and downed it, feeling the wound close a little as she stooped to grab the mask, briefly stabbing his body with his own knife before heading deeper into the swamp to hide and heal, praying that no-one would follow her.


	9. Paint it Black

**A/N:** Chapters should be around this length from now on. Do enjoy!

 **Chapter 9: Paint it Black**

"This is getting out of hand," Prentiss said, grimacing as she stared down at the body of the man. "First the women, now him?"

"Well, I can tell you he _does_ have some wounds suggesting he may have been attacking someone, though assault or self-defense is up in the air for now," the medical examiner said, shaking his head. "You done here? I'd like to take him back and find out exactly what happened to him."

"Yes, thank you," Morgan said, taking a step away from the body with Prentiss, watching as the body was placed in a bag and hauled onto a stretcher and carried away.

"We'll need to track down his identity next, but I have a feeling that the break in we heard about right before we came here could be related," Prentiss said.

"The locations _are_ pretty close," Morgan nodded.

"Yeah and – what…?" she asked, frowning as he guided her to one side to stare at a tree.

"That is blood, right?" he checked.

Prentiss frowned, stepping up and leaning in. "Yeah, I'd say that's blood. Think someone else is still lingering around here?"

"Let's find out. Hey, guys! I found some blood over here. Can we get people taking samples here and search the area?" he called, already looking for a potential set of tracks, a trail, anything.

Prentiss was the one to find the trail, leading them on until it stopped, no warning to where the person may have gone. She shook her head, glancing back the way they'd come. There had to be a trail somewhere. It couldn't just _die_.

"We'll pick it up," Morgan smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder and smiling surely at her, helping the two other officers search for the path.

* * *

Liv winced, clutching at her side as she strode through the thick of the swamp. She'd managed to trace a couple runes in the ground to mask her trail, but they would fade soon enough, and she needed to be out of the way by the time her track resurfaced.

She had one more healing potion that she'd stolen, and then she'd need to get bandages, clean up….

"Divines help me," she growled softly, shaking her head and crouching down to dig out the potion and pull out a new shirt and her jacket. Her current shirt would be cut for a temporary bandage, and her jacket would hide the blood while she… _stole_ … the supplies she needed.

"I have to have some paper money," she breathed, working quickly on her shirt and tied the long strips she cut with Qahnaarin. The potion came next, the pain dulling some more, the wound more surely closed.

Still not fully healed, though. Curse Krosis for making such weak potions.

"He can make langorwine but not a decent, Oblivion-cursed healing potion," she grumbled, pulling on a new shirt and her jacket despite the humid heat. Liv dug through her pack next, finding a few paper notes. Nothing particularly useful, except for two crumpled ten-dollar notes that had her laughing quietly in relief. That _should_ be enough. She hoped it would be, standing and gathering her senses and direction before heading off to where she would most likely find the city.

The walk was long, Liv clenching her jaw every time she found a dip in the path, or someone jostled her, or she had to stop or swerve suddenly. It hurt to Aetherius and back, and as soon as she had her magic back, as soon as she was back home where she belonged, she'd _never_ take healing for granted again.

The shop was clean and smelt the same as the morgue, just less cold. She quietly made her way to the aisle with the bandages, staring at the choices in mildly panicked confusion before settling for something that she hoped would work, gauze – something that thankfully wasn't too different in this world – and a bottle of water. The girl at the cashier smiled, kindly thanking Liv for purchasing at their shop and wished her well.

It was almost a taste of home.

The worst was mostly over, now Liv just needed to find a quiet place to sit down and clean her injury, somewhere she wouldn't be disturbed so she could take her time. Liv made her way around the back of the shop, right into an alley that hid her from most passersby, to the point where she was sure that even people with a purpose to be here would be hard-pressed to find her.

She eased to the ground, opening the packet that her goods had been placed in and pulled them out slowly. She peeled away her shirt and the strip she'd used to bandage herself with, cleaning up the wound with water as best she could.

Scrubbing raw wounds was something she always hated doing, but now, more than ever, it was important for her to keep infection at bay.

"This damn world and its lack of magic," Liv grumbled. And her own lacking abilities. "Can't dwell on that now, anyway," she sighed.

Once the blood had been wiped away, leaving only pink and tender skin behind, Liv carefully dried it with another strip from her shirt, examining the damage.

It was a fairly short cut, thankfully, but deep thanks to Hevnoraak's thrust. From what she could tell, and the potions she'd thrown down her throat, nothing was too seriously damaged inside. And her skin had started to knit together again under the soft scab, giving her a better chance at healing.

She'd try to muster up a few more healing spells once she had everything wrapped up, starting with the gauze she'd bought and lay it over the scab. The bandages came next, with a bit of grumbling, swearing and shifting to get them tight enough for her liking.

Liv heaved a sigh when she was done, shoving her things into her pack.

Enough was enough. She wanted in with the FBI team, and get a real chance to strike back at the priests. She'd lied to the Thalmor and gotten away with it before, she could lie to them and work her way into helping them.

With that in mind, Liv stood and made sure she was presentable, shirt hanging neat over her jeans, her jacket carefully covering her bandaged side before she slung her bag over her shoulder, Qahnaarin joining her bag as she headed out of the alley, walking straight to the police station where she'd been the day before.

* * *

She hadn't expected the hustle and bustle that she found there, many of the policemen rushing by and calling to one another about another case that had come through, something about a robbery and a murder that had been linked.

 _Probably the one you caused, Liv,_ she thought, making her way to the front desk and grimacing when someone walked right into her, clipping her shoulder and making her stagger.

"Shit, I'm sorry!" he called, hurrying away.

Liv nodded, offering a wan smile as she kept pushing forwards through an overeager crowd full of information about the murder. Less than half of it would be any kind of useful, in her experience. The others were usual miscreants; she knew the look well.

But that wasn't her problem. Her problem would be getting to Spencer, and talking to him. She winced mentally at the thought of playing him to get onto the team but… so far he was the only one blatantly on her side. He was sweet, kind. She'd done her share of bad things in the name of the greater good, but Liv felt guilty for abusing his trust in her.

"Ma'am, can I help you?" an officer asked her, voice straining under his attempts to be friendly and polite.

"Uhm, yes," she nodded, placing her hands on the counter and hoping he'd come a little closer for the charm spell she was charging. "I came in yesterday as a consultant for the FBI…. Doctor Reid said I should ask for him if I came back with more information," she said, licking her lips.

The officer gave her a long look, hands moving to guide her off the counter when she leaned too far forwards. "Listen, I –" _Gotcha,_ she thought as he spoke, releasing the spell. "Just… take a seat, alright? I'll go hear if they're able to talk to you now."

"I appreciate that," she smiled. "It is quite urgent."

"Sure, okay, please, take a seat, ma'am," he said, frowning in confusion before Liv dutifully turned away to wait impatiently.

She just hoped one of the other agents wouldn't see through her lie and call her out on it.

"Liv! You found out something new?"

She turned, finding Spencer weaving his way through the crowd, trying to avoid touching anyone.

"Yes, I did. Can we talk somewhere a little less… busy?" she asked, walking closer to him.

He nodded quickly, gesturing back the way he came. "Sure, of course. This way. Are you okay? You look a little tense," he said, words tumbling out and stopping suddenly when someone cut in front of them.

Liv carefully stepped around him and took the lead, pushing people out of the way until he could open one of the interrogation rooms for her. "Thanks. I'm not really fond of crowds of people," he said, offering a shy smile as he glanced at her and down at a cluttered table. "Sorry for the mess, I came in here to try and see what else I could piece together about the attacks."

"That's okay," she said, nodding. "And I'm fine, thanks. It's just been a long day. I, uhm, well, I…. Could you keep this between us, for now?" Liv asked, looking up at him.

"Uhm, okay? Sure," Spencer nodded, gesturing at the small couch and pulling out a chair for himself, waiting until she'd made herself comfortable, and she was ready to talk.

"Thanks, I appreciate that. So, firstly, you were dealing with another priest. Secondly, I have vials of the poison. I am not going to tell you how I got them," she added, expression hardening when Spencer opened his mouth to ask. She felt guilty a moment later when he deflated a little, brown eyes giving away that his mind was running a mile a minute to figure out how to get her to give him the information he wanted.

"Okay. That's great. You said you can make an antidote from the poison, right?"

"Yes. I need access to equipment that might not really be standard… and somewhere quiet where I can brew the antidote. Preferably somewhere I can stay overnight."

"What about the morgue? I'm sure they'd be happy to let you use their equipment," he said, clasping his hands in his lap.

Liv shook her head. "I don't know how any of their equipment works, and I'd rather not get a detailed explanation on how, and waste what little we have on a possibly botched antidote. I just need somewhere I can work in peace. It's hard enough to make without someone watching my every move. I'll need a calcinator, an alembic, and a retort. Everything else I will supply," she finished, shifting uncomfortably on the couch, avoiding Spencer's gaze for a moment before she finally looked up.

He looked a little confused, but mostly curious and understanding. "I can do that for you, Liv," he smiled, nodding quickly and tucking his hair behind his ears. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

She paused, taking a deep breath before releasing it slowly. "Yes," she nodded, making up her mind. "Yes, there is. I would like to… join you as a consultant on cases like these. I feel like I'll keep running into you, and I'd prefer a more… _stable_ … occupation," she said, pursing her lips as she considered pulling out Rahgot's mask to show Spencer.

"Okay. I'll need to talk to the rest of the team first, you know that, right?" he said, trying to make her look at him again.

"Yeah, I understand that. And that it'll be dependent on a whole lot more than just me coming in to ask for it," Liv said, finally looking up at him again.

"Yeah, pretty much," Spencer nodded, offering her a small smile. "If it helps, though, I think you'd be a great asset to the team. You're smart, resourceful…. Honestly, I'm surprised you're not doing this kind of work permanently. What did you do before all of this?"

Liv let a small smirk settle on her lips. "I guess you could say I did a fair bit of work like this, but mostly, bounty hunting, I guess," she shrugged, watching his expression go from neutral to interested.

"Really? Sounds like you'll have all sorts of stories to tell, then."

"Maybe one day, you'll even get to hear them," Liv grinned, feeling a little more at ease with the light chatter.

"Hopefully. I'll find a way to get you to tell me about them," he grinned, looking up and behind her, his smile fading a little. "I'll get to work on setting up somewhere for you to work on making the antidote, but right now, we need to get the rest of the case under control."

"This has to do with the murder victim and the house break in, doesn't it?" she asked, turning serious.

Spencer gave her a long look, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. We think it may be connected. But we're not too sure how, yet. I promise I'll get to work on your things, but I gotta go help out my team. Is there anything else I can do for you, Liv?"

She shook her head, gathering her things. "No, I don't think so, Spencer. Go, I'll be fine. Do you want me to stick around?" she asked, glancing behind her to see Agent Jareau waiting patiently on the other side of the glass.

"Uh, sure, yeah. But I'm not sure where, technically I can't leave you alone with evidence," he frowned, looking around the room.

"That's fine," she smiled, standing. "I'll come back again later today, maybe? Before closing?"

Spencer's eyes lit up, nodding quickly. "Yeah, yeah that'll work perfectly," he said. "Just ask for me again," he said, walking with her and holding the door for Liv.

"Me? Lying? No. Just good at charming," she smirked, feeling a little smug when he gaped at her reply, nodding at Agent Prentiss as Liv passed her. "I'll see you."

* * *

"So, Liv's going to help us out?" JJ asked, watching the girl go.

"Yup She says she's got a couple things she needs to get started on making an antidote to the poison. We'll see if it actually works, but so far, I still trust her on this case."

"Just don't trust her too much, okay?"

Spencer frowned at the tone in JJ's voice, tilting his head in thought. "Why do you sound like that's something I wouldn't be aware of?"

"It's just that… you seem to like her. Just keep a clear head, okay?" she said, reaching out to squeeze his arm, pulling back with a soft sigh when Spencer flinched away.

"I'm fine. She's just helping us help the victims," he said, turning away and walking back to where the rest of the team was. "We've got work to do."

* * *

Spencer managed to set her up with the equipment she needed, in a quiet little 'motel' not too far from the police station. Liv didn't ask how he'd managed to get everything she asked for in such a short amount of time, and she certainly didn't want to ask with the guilty look in his eyes.

She'd thanked him, and immediately taken the apparatus, set up them up, and gotten to work. "You're still here," she said after a moment, the table carefully laid out with space for Liv to work with other parts of the antidote.

"Yeah, well… I'm not really in the mood to go back to them right now," he admitted, shuffling from foot to foot. "Is it okay if I stay? Just for a while. I know you asked for this room to be alone –"

"It's fine. Make yourself comfortable, Spencer. We're going to be here all night for this," Liv sighed, turning around to offer him a small smile.

"Oh, alright. Okay," he smiled, moving to the motel bed and perching a little awkwardly on it. She could feel his eyes on her, watching as she went through the motions of setting up the calcinator, retort and alembic to her liking, fetching water and scowling at the glass she found in the adjoining bathroom, filling it with water.

Liv would need to distill it, mix in some of the poison and slowly let it simmer for a while before she'd be able to start purify it and turn it into an antidote. Watching water boil was something she found tedious, despite enjoying the finer art of alchemy.

And Spencer was still with her.

"It's called Qahnaarin."

"What?"

"My sword. It's named Qahnaarin," Liv said, finally striking up a conversation, turning to him once the small candle she'd bought was cheerily burning under the alembic. "You wanted to know its name."

"Oh." Spencer sounded surprised, shifting on the bed. "Oh. That's really cool. What does… uh, Canahrin -"

"Qahnaarin," she corrected gently.

"Qahnaarin?" Spencer tried, smiling a little when she nodded. "What does Qahnaarin mean?"

"It translates to 'Vanquisher'. It was an apt name, at the time," she said, gaze falling on the weapon that lay on the bed behind him, with her pack.

"I can believe that," he chuckled softly. "How old is it? And what is it made of?"

"It's… old enough," Liv nodded slowly. "And it's made out of a material I know as ebony. Legend says it's the petrified blood of a god," she grinned, turning to look at him.

"Petrified blood of a good? Really?" he grinned, eyes shining with mirth. "Is that why it's so hard?"

"Who knows? I like to believe in a little extraordinary magic," Liv smiled back.

"What made you change your mind about telling me the name of your sword?"

She hesitated, tinkering over the apparatus for a moment. "I trust you. You've shown that you're willing to trust me, and give me time to try and find a way to get through to you in my own way and time. That… means a lot to me, honestly. Especially after a lot of recent things that have happened. I appreciate the faith you've put in me, and I would like to return the gesture."

"Oh, well… I suppose that's fair," he stammered, smiling at her. "And besides knowing things that you clearly aren't willing to talk about, for whatever reason, I feel like you've only tried to help us, so far," Spencer said.

Liv didn't turn around to look at him, lest she find his earnest, almost puppy-like eyes looking back at her with a deceptive innocence. "I'll try to help. But I can't guarantee that it will always work."

"As long as you're willing to help us catch the criminals," he said, shifting again on the bed. It was quiet for a long moment before Spencer spoke again. "Was there another priest here?"

Liv pursed her lips, opting instead to pull out the vials of languorwine and mix them together with the distilled water before she replied. "No."

"No? So, not at all? Or was there more than one?"

Liv turned to level him with a stare, raising one brow before turning back to her work, pulling out a few more supplies she'd managed to purchase earlier.

"There were no priests here?"

"No."

"There was more than one priest here?"

"Yes," she answered reluctantly.

"Okay. So there were two here?"

"Technically yes."

"Three?"

"Spencer," she sighed. "I need to concentrate on this next part. Can we hold off on the questions for a bit?"

"Sure. Just for a bit, though," he conceded, falling into silence. After a while he shifted, and Live heard the soft creak of a book's spine as he settled in to read.

* * *

Liv was exhausted by the time the sun rose, yawning widely and whining as she stretched out in her chair, a pleased yet small smile on her face.

The antidote was complete, and today she would be delivering it to the FBI team. Spencer left a few hours after she'd rebuffed his question, sparing her one final, curious glance at the way she'd been making the antidote.

Surely it wasn't _that_ odd? But then again, Liv was from a very different time and place, if his chatter a few minutes after opening the book was anything to go by. She liked the sound of his voice, the eager way with which he'd spew information, words garbling together until he needed to gasp for air, suddenly remembering that he was speaking and thinking too fast for the average human.

It was endearing, and fascinating.

She yawned again as she packed up and cleaned up, opening all the windows to air out the place. The bitter, fresh smell was considerably better than the smell of stale tobacco and cheap alcohol, though. Liv glanced at the bed, seriously considering taking a nap before leaving for the station, but decided against it.

The sooner the women got the antidote, the sooner she'd be able to find a way into the rest of the team's good graces. And the sooner that happened, maybe she'd get a chance to help them with their cases and bring Alduin to heel.

Her side twinged with all of her actions, making Liv sigh and head into the bathroom to tend to the wound. At least it was still closed, bruised a deep purple and scabbed with an ugly, soft black scab. It was morbidly fascinating to her as she cleaned it gently, deciding to step into the shower and enjoy the warmth while she had its privileges before drying and dressing, her wound tended and bandaged again.

The trip to the station was quick, Liv arriving before the next crowd of unruly civilians all dutifully trying to help. The officer from the day before recognized her, checking that she was indeed there for the FBI team before he allowed her past, leading her to them.

They all looked tired, and over caffeinated, judging by the empty paper cups she found on the table, and Prentiss' bleary-eyed look.

"Liv," Hotchner greeted, standing slowly and deliberately. "What can we do for you?"

"I have the antidote," she said.


End file.
